Well, there it is, folks! I moved! Maybe it’s not news to you if you’re following along with #SundaysWithSyd (an Instagram phenomenon that's all too crazy), but if you’re new here, there ya go! I moved closer to downtown Denver and my little city heart is singing all its songs.
It’s really thrilling and slightly weird. I’ve always lived with others, moved into houses that were already established, well-lived-in and well loved. I’ve never liked living by myself, so my college roomie Eugenia and I are sharing an apartment. Right in the heart of Denver. Two minutes from work. Am I in a dream?
Someone pinch me.
At first survey, I have all too many clothes and not enough furniture. I filled up my closet, no problem. The kitchen cabinets are mostly covered (though we discovered that our lack of a stock pot was rather inconvenient because someone (me) loves soup… and pasta. An 8 p.m. trip to Goodwill fixed that quickly!)
The floor could use some linseed oil… it’s been loved for 100+ years and you can see all the places previous owners have walked, sat, paced. It’s vey endearing. (I’m a sucker for old things, I apologize).
We have no dining table so we’ve been eating off the coffee table, which makes it sound very fancy and respectable. It’s really two semi-empty boxes stacked on top of one another with a doily and folded lace curtain to make it more presentable.
sidenote: doily. Can we re-spell this? A different way? A less-ironic way? I can’t stop looking at the word now. Doily. Doily. DOILY.
We washed dishes in the bathtub for the first few days we lived there because the sink wasn't draining. I know I should have been annoyed, but something about the experience was so endearing to me, and there are few things funnier than squatting in the bathroom scrubbing dishes (don’t worry – our landlord fixed it!).
Luckily, my Queen Anne chair (nicknamed Annie, because why not) is holding down the fort nicely in the meantime. I’ve always wanted a wingback chair for reading and curling up and just general oldness, and I found this one at an estate sale for $22. Annie, you devil. I love you and your arm protectors so much.
Due to a lacking budget and business, I've had a hard time getting everything together to the point where it feels done and ready to be lived-in. This stresses me out tremendously, but my sister reminded me: life is always about people, not things. People don't care what your house looks like if you're making them laugh really, really hard.
So, despite the kookiness (the radiator in my room houses a Borrower that likes to tinker around 3 a.m.), I’m really grateful and almost overwhelmed by the fact that I get to live here. I’ll take the bad with the really good and stress out about dining tables and student loans later, thank you very much. Because a few nights ago it was snowing and we sat on my futon staring outside at the sleepy city talking about how much life can change in a year, and how we’re excited for this one.
Creaks and all, it’ll be a good one.