You know you're getting old when dreams about forgetting your schedule or locker combination in high school are replaced by dreams of forgetting certain things you really needed on a business trip, and not knowing where to go once your plane lands.
I also dreamed last night that Christina Aguilera was putting out an album of covers, which included a cover of Michael Jackson's "Jam" that was one of the most beautiful, ethereal songs I had ever heard (it sounded nothing like the original). Who knows where that came from.
Friday, March 24, 2006
So, the major life event that I never blogged about (didn't wanna jinx anything) is complete. We are now home owners (well, co-op owners, we don't own a house I suppose, just part of it).
We closed and moved last week. There are people that like to pack and there are people that like to unpack. I hate packing, not because it's boring (although it is), but because I can't shake the feeling that as soon as I pack something I'm going to need it. So what if I have all my bank statements going back to when I was in college, and I haven't used them in years? I may need them tomorrow! You never know!
So, as soon as the movers left I was ripping boxes open so that we could get settled in as quickly as possible. The older I get, the more I feel the need to "nest" once in a new home.
My main concern was my cat. When we first moved to our last apartment she hid behind the radiator for two days and wouldn't budge. Here, she was running up and down the hallway leading to the main bedroom at 3 a.m., waking up both us and our new downstairs neighbors in the process. She hasn't done that since she was about six months old.
Owning your own place is odd, there's now this huge shadow looming over you due to this new mortgage that everyone except you is convinced that you can afford. But, there's a certain happiness that overcomes you when you unlock the door and walk into your living room after work. This place is yours.
I'm just loving the new place. It's so great not living right on top of Smith Street anymore. It's not that our old place was terribly noisy, but there were the too frequent wake-up calls from the bar-goers next door (buy us a couple beers and ask us for a few good stories) and it feels a bit more calming to leave your apartment and not be right on a main street. I can also sleep through the night without hearing the latest reggaeton track blasting from the cars on the street.
No Daddy Yankee at four o'clock in the morning... it's a good thing.
We closed and moved last week. There are people that like to pack and there are people that like to unpack. I hate packing, not because it's boring (although it is), but because I can't shake the feeling that as soon as I pack something I'm going to need it. So what if I have all my bank statements going back to when I was in college, and I haven't used them in years? I may need them tomorrow! You never know!
So, as soon as the movers left I was ripping boxes open so that we could get settled in as quickly as possible. The older I get, the more I feel the need to "nest" once in a new home.
My main concern was my cat. When we first moved to our last apartment she hid behind the radiator for two days and wouldn't budge. Here, she was running up and down the hallway leading to the main bedroom at 3 a.m., waking up both us and our new downstairs neighbors in the process. She hasn't done that since she was about six months old.
Owning your own place is odd, there's now this huge shadow looming over you due to this new mortgage that everyone except you is convinced that you can afford. But, there's a certain happiness that overcomes you when you unlock the door and walk into your living room after work. This place is yours.
I'm just loving the new place. It's so great not living right on top of Smith Street anymore. It's not that our old place was terribly noisy, but there were the too frequent wake-up calls from the bar-goers next door (buy us a couple beers and ask us for a few good stories) and it feels a bit more calming to leave your apartment and not be right on a main street. I can also sleep through the night without hearing the latest reggaeton track blasting from the cars on the street.
No Daddy Yankee at four o'clock in the morning... it's a good thing.
Who knew?
"99 Luftballons" is a Cold-War era protest song that tells the story of 99 red balloons floating into the air, triggering an apocalypse when the military sends planes to intercept them.
And you thought it just had a snazzy keyboard riff.
"99 Luftballons" is a Cold-War era protest song that tells the story of 99 red balloons floating into the air, triggering an apocalypse when the military sends planes to intercept them.
And you thought it just had a snazzy keyboard riff.
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