Brookside living

Aaahh, moving. The best I can say is, we know where all of our possessions are. They are in the basement.

We live in a community where a non-profit educational foundation owns the land and most of the buildings, including housing. So, every July 1 there is a big shuffle among students, faculty and staff of the various entities involved.

We were in a very small basement apartment. It had its good qualities, but primarily it was dark, damp, and had a very creaky ceiling. So we took our chance and moved onto some “on-campus housing” as Papa puts it so well.

Our new house is about the same size as the last, but it’s a duplex with no one above us, and a full basement below us, so the previous problems are gone. Also we have a brook in the backyard, to the delight of the Huntlings. The picture isn’t of our brook, but that’s remarkably close to how it looks.

Moving is always a mixed bag for me. I love to move into a new clean space, full of possibilities for arranging our nest. This time we moved into a space with some measure of “charm,” meaning for us wood floors, lots of windows, walls painted something other than white (in this case, butter yellow, pink, and lavender…not as freaky as it sounds, I promise) and the aformentioned brook.

However we chose to paint our old apartment because it sorely needed it. And I always find it hard to focus on cleaning up the old place when a new tantalizingly fresh space awaits. And it’s been raining or at least crazy humid for days, making everything about moving just that much more icky.

At least this time no one got the flu, put out their back, got towed (thanks to Papa Bradstein for that walk down memory lane!), or otherwise suffered. Papa Hunt is a pretty tired pup right now, but we survived.

Now we just need a phone, an ISP, window coverings (did I mention our front yard view is the dorm?)….



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2 responses to “Brookside living

  1. Papa Bradstein

    On-campus housing?


    When’s your first kegger?

    OK, how about your first pasta night?

  2. Henitsirk

    Sadly, it’s not really a kegger crowd around here. But on our way out to dinner tonight we passed a gentleman playing some groovy cajun dance tunes on his accordion. No lie.

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