[personal profile] kittenscribble
As of Saturday evening, I officially finished with my house. (All right, so it's still my house, and if my tenants have any problems I still have to go over and fix things, but I'm done over there for now.) I removed every trace of my existence. I cleaned up dirty fingerprints. I painted over worn spots. I scrubbed the insides of the kitchen cabinets. I steam-cleaned the carpets with such thorough efficiency that not a single footprint was left. (Really. As I was leaving, I did cute little hops from the kitchen area to the foyer in order to avoid leaving prints on the hallway carpet.)

And then I stuffed the remaining junk in my car and went to my new home, K's home, and promptly slept for nine hours. Ah, luxury.

I woke Sunday morning with the odd feeling of nothing to do. For the past month my head has been crammed with tasks: pack, move, clean, make phone calls. But on Sunday morning, there was nothing urgent that needed doing. I went downstairs and bummed around the living room for a while, which was strange, because a) I hadn't bummed around in a while, and b) it was a living room in which I was not accustomed to being unoccupied. I read the newspaper. I watched random things on television. I read [livejournal.com profile] hakainokami's manga. I finally ventured out to the Goodwill to deposit unwanted things, returned [livejournal.com profile] bkleber's steam cleaner (thanks!), and went shopping. I went back home (new home!) and made curried apple couscous, which was fantastic.

It's so nice to have nothing to do.
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kittenscribble

July 2011

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