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slipjig320 things I love about the new apartment, especially vis-á-vis the cabin we just vacated:
1) It's shiningly, dazzlingly, new-car-smell levels of new—the building is less than five years old, and this apartment was the last chunk completed.
2) It has exactly the right amount of room, with two bedrooms (one of which has been designated the Lounge) and a sizable living room-slash-kitchen. Not so small as to leave us constantly getting up in each other's wheelhouse, and not so big as to be floating around the space like orphans lost in La Guardia.
3) Hardwood floors that don't resemble 1920's freight elevators.
4) DISHWASHER, baby!
5) The walls, being off-white instead of wood-brown, actually reflect light rather than swallow it whole, anaconda-like.
6) It has radiant heating through the floorboards—slow to warm up, but once it does, oh my gods, I am never ever leaving. Pants are once again optional.
7) Rodent-free.
8) Including thrill-seeking adolescent bats.
9) It's less than a mile from the old place, which has meant a much easier moving experience than anticipated.
10) That radiant heat? Included in the rent.
11) And we're still paying less!
12) The bedroom and lounge both have built-in waist-high shelves spanning two walls each.
13) Gardens, composting, root cellars, guinea fowl being raised in the guest house...yep, New England hippie landlords!
14) They take care of the plowing.
15) They also take care of the garbage, which means no more backroads Saturday morning drives to the transfer station, praying that the insect larvae that are camping out in the bottoms of the garbage cans don't decide to make a break for it. (This was not a pleasant summer in some ways.)
16) We actually have hope (my breath catches as I type this) of actually keeping this place clean!
17) Our Internet won't be hooked up for another who knows how long. The landlords gave us their Wi-fi password.
18) There's a birdhouse outside our bedroom window made out of two poles, a teapot, and a ceramic elephant.
19) Remember when I mention the walls reflecting light? They also apparently concentrate smells, which means smelling dinner on the way through the front door.
20) Even this early on, it feels like home. It really does.
After a late-night discussion and the necessity of creating a new Foursquare listing, we've decided, based on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
figmentj's idea, to name the apartment Chalice. It suits the space. The space suits us. And it's still here in this wild, wooded New Hampshire greenness, just one road over from where we were, and there's all this contentment that clings to our skin like light and rain and wonder. Do come visit sometime. We'd love to have you.
1) It's shiningly, dazzlingly, new-car-smell levels of new—the building is less than five years old, and this apartment was the last chunk completed.
2) It has exactly the right amount of room, with two bedrooms (one of which has been designated the Lounge) and a sizable living room-slash-kitchen. Not so small as to leave us constantly getting up in each other's wheelhouse, and not so big as to be floating around the space like orphans lost in La Guardia.
3) Hardwood floors that don't resemble 1920's freight elevators.
4) DISHWASHER, baby!
5) The walls, being off-white instead of wood-brown, actually reflect light rather than swallow it whole, anaconda-like.
6) It has radiant heating through the floorboards—slow to warm up, but once it does, oh my gods, I am never ever leaving. Pants are once again optional.
7) Rodent-free.
8) Including thrill-seeking adolescent bats.
9) It's less than a mile from the old place, which has meant a much easier moving experience than anticipated.
10) That radiant heat? Included in the rent.
11) And we're still paying less!
12) The bedroom and lounge both have built-in waist-high shelves spanning two walls each.
13) Gardens, composting, root cellars, guinea fowl being raised in the guest house...yep, New England hippie landlords!
14) They take care of the plowing.
15) They also take care of the garbage, which means no more backroads Saturday morning drives to the transfer station, praying that the insect larvae that are camping out in the bottoms of the garbage cans don't decide to make a break for it. (This was not a pleasant summer in some ways.)
16) We actually have hope (my breath catches as I type this) of actually keeping this place clean!
17) Our Internet won't be hooked up for another who knows how long. The landlords gave us their Wi-fi password.
18) There's a birdhouse outside our bedroom window made out of two poles, a teapot, and a ceramic elephant.
19) Remember when I mention the walls reflecting light? They also apparently concentrate smells, which means smelling dinner on the way through the front door.
20) Even this early on, it feels like home. It really does.
After a late-night discussion and the necessity of creating a new Foursquare listing, we've decided, based on
figmentj's idea, to name the apartment Chalice. It suits the space. The space suits us. And it's still here in this wild, wooded New Hampshire greenness, just one road over from where we were, and there's all this contentment that clings to our skin like light and rain and wonder. Do come visit sometime. We'd love to have you.
