I remember a year ago moving into this apartment, we thought we had hit the jackpot.
We loved our building. We loved our courtyard. We loved our landlord. We loved our neighborhood.
We had an amazing patio where everyone grew plants and vegetables and cooked out. We had built in bookshelves and a beautiful full wall of french windows. We had a little space for Gibson to run around late at night when no one was awake. Gibson even liked walking around in the neighborhood!
We painted and crafted and made the apartment our own. We bought grown up furniture and decided that we would stay here until we could afford something bigger, better, and even more permanent. We had a pig roast and got to know all of our neighbors.
But then the building got sold. And our lovely landlord turned into a giant management company.
Then the demolition began.
Trees were cut down to the trunks. Fencing ripped out. All plant life removed. Patios taken away. Empty apartments gutted. Electricity or water turned off without warning. Inspections all the damn time. Power saws and hammering at 8AM sharp six days a week. Windows boarded up. Pieces of the building everywhere. Nails, screws, and sawdust scattered all around. Beautiful French windows replaced with industrial jail cell looking ones. A big blue dumpster sitting out front going on 6 months now. Construction workers taking lunch break on my window sill and leaving empty cigarette packs and water bottles strewn around.
Brad and I were going insane. Mostly me, because I’m the one home during the day and it was all stressing me out beyond belief. But there was so much dirt and dust and who knows what else in the air that Brad was getting sick every time he came home. We were barely sleeping with our late restaurant nights and routine 8AM wake up calls, and Gibson was a wreck with all of the loud noises and people coming and going whenever they pleased.
All that and I was getting absolutely nothing done during the day, just waiting for another notice of an inspection to be taped to my front door. I was miserable.
So we put in our 30 days notice and began the apartment search. We happened to find a place in the same neighborhood (three blocks away!) with more amenities and a better kitchen.
It has a pink bathroom, too, but we can handle that.
So last week, we had a feast in our shy cherry dining room with Suzi, James, David and Alli. I imagine it was our last “family meal” in this apartment, as we are packing up and moving this week.
But oh what a family meal it was…
It’s sad to leave a space we had such high hopes for, but I envision many, many more family meals to come, and a much more peaceful living situation on the way.
I’m looking forward to sleeping in once in a while again, too. A well rested Kels is a much nicer Kels…
You are one lucky lady. Brad has some serious culinary skills. I’m just wondering, if time permits would he be willing to offer cooking lessons. If that’s feasible email. Feel free to shoot me an email to talk details. I have looking for someone to teach me all the basics and more and I think he is the one.