It’s 9:37 p.m. A freight train just went by. It’s loud because the sliding door is open because the oven is in self-cleaning mode which is a bit smelly. And smoky – I think it’s setting off the neighbour’s smoke alarm.
Adam was trying to soothe Nico to sleep in the bottom bunk of the girls’ new bed, in their new room, in their new home. He has probably fallen asleep. Nico is probably still awake, looking for his “button”. She is currently obsessed with tickling us.
Lu is in her top bunk, with her starry night canopy, her new pink minky blanket beside her, her new pink fairy comforter under her and wrapped up in her ratty-old “Dada quilt”, the Raggedy Ann and Andy blanket that used to be Adam’s when he was a boy.
There’s no art up yet. 15 boxes of engineered bamboo flooring are stacked in the hall to be installed this weekend. The hot water isn’t consistent. There’s no fruit and vegetable market in the entire neighbourhood. 98% of my craftyness is on P2 level, locked behind several doors, six floors below me and oddly enough, in an entirely different building. I still get confused as to where north is. Work is overwhelming. Nico is going through her whine-y phase. Lucy is still going through her philosophizing phase.
Two of my closest friends are going to be my neighbours in the next few weeks. Sarah wants to keep caring for the girls until they enter school and daycare next September. I rode my bike 1/5th of the way to work. My washer and dryer are red. And quiet. I can practice skating in the visitors’ parking. Our terrace is huge, and next Spring will have grass and trees. Running up four floors of stairs daily doesn’t burn like it did three weeks ago. We went apple-picking and they were the best apples I have ever eaten in my entire life.
Hello from the 4th floor of 61 Heintzman Place,