Gaudy Patter

As it turned out, the stress was manageable, and good company made the shopping excursions into bonding moments. In one evening, we went to Office Depot to get moving boxes before skipping down the freeway to Home Depot, where we picked up hardware and software for our new digs. We dropped the housewares of at the new address, then returned to my place so we could pack up our stuff.

I keep calling it our new home, but it was built in 1885. The style is Italianate Victorian, and it seems to be holding up pretty well. Redwood frame, brick foundation. Solid, baby.

The building's vintage keeps occurring to me, usually when I'm doing something like tuning the waterproof radio in our shower, or adding a new Law & Order spinoff to the TiVo lineup. Then again, some dead people probably sat in this very living room, marveling at their shiny new Victrola or DuMont. I guess I shouldn't be so taken with myself.

OK, I'll poke a little fun at my Noe Valley forebears; our Vornado arrived this afternoon. No more chilly-ass nights, although there are worse fates than huddling for warmth. This building is so old, it still has a door downstairs for where coal might have been delivered.

This building is so old, it was built the same year that heralded the publication of Huckleberry Finn, the first appendectomy, the arrival of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor, and the dedication of the Washington Monument. It's old, and I think that's cool.

Records indicate that the property was subdivided from a larger lot. I was soaking in the extra-long bathtub the other night, speculating on how that might have occurred. Maybe someone lost it in a bridge game, The larger lot, which probably contained a gorgeous Victorian mansion, was razed a few decades back to create an apartment building.

So, we're settling in. We learned the hard way the other night that we can't use the oven. The cats are giving each other a respectful distance, avoiding conflict. I've learned to time my showers so I no longer run out of hot water, and I've peeped out the closest laundromats and Indian restaurants. It's good here.

And thanks to the intrepid efforts of stalwart L, I was able to swap in a replacement drive for this laptop-- and she was able to recover my once-fried data after expending a great deal of time and effort.

As soon as is feasible, I'm going to pay someone to cut a hole in the kitchen ceiling and put in a skylight over the sink and stove. I'd like to improve this place. Never felt that way before. Maybe this is home.