Wednesday, November 14, 2007

hello to our new home

After 3-days of driving in separate cars (and a lot of calls between on the walkie-talkies), we have arrived at the new place we’ll call home. For just the next 4 months, that is. (Thankfully!)

The first day that we arrived I was speechless. Literally. I knew that our living space (a one-bedroom studio-type apartment) would be rustic, but I wasn’t totally prepared these rustic proportions. (Think camping out, except not as fun and indoors.)

Husband, noticing my unusual silence and shock, was trying to be the energetic optimist. He pointed out any positive attributes with energy that would rival any used car salesman.

“Wow! Look…not one, but TWO TVs!”

“Ooh…what a nice big desk for your computer!”

“Cool, a four-slot toaster!”

He then got so desperate to cheer me up that he resorted to pointing out even the most basic items with the same enthusiasm.

“Wow, a closet!”

“It has a refrigerator, too!”

“Check out the table!”

I moped for a day, and then got over it. Sure, this place wouldn’t be my first choice (or even second choice) for a living space, but it’ll do. I’m grateful that we’re together and we have a safe place to live. (And that there’s internet in the room!)

So my gloomy mood faded and I became the “it’s-not-so-bad” cheerleader for the both of us. That’s when Husband caught the gloomy blues. After all his initial enthusiasm (and after nearly 72 hours of living here), he finally looked around, as if he just saw the place for the first time, and frowned saying: “this place is a dump!”

He’s right. It’s sort of a dump. But we are laughing at all the quirks of the place. (Trust me – there’s plenty, so we’re doing a lot of laughing.) Like the bed that seems to be only slightly larger than a twin bed, fit more for a small child than two adults. Or the overhead fluorescent lights that cast a yellow-ish haze over the room. Or, the kitchen sink that isn’t big enough for more than one dish at a time. And, last but not least, the invisible stove and non-existent oven that’s made the microwave our best friend.

Regardless, I know that we’ll survive…and we’ll have many more laughs at the expense of our poor little place.

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