Curtains

A few years ago, one of my friends and her husband bought their first house. I remember having an hours long conversation with her about what color to paint her new kitchen. This was the first home either of them had ever purchased and they were excited to start their first project. Painting was their priority; spending years in apartments where they couldn't paint made them giddy about the possibility of doing whatever they wanted. For a few weeks, it was the only thing she talked about. She must have showed me hundreds of color swatches and it wasn't my decision to make. They eventually settled on pale yellow, a color that complimented their oak furniture. I'm sure they moved onto some other project with the same energy and obsession, but I only remember the kitchen painting project. Their excitement was so contagious. I wanted them to find the perfect color too.

When I bought my condo, I was surprised by how many people asked me what my first project would be. I would respond "Unpack," and people would either laugh at my "joke" or look at me like I was an idiot. They meant home improvement project. I didn't realize that the second you buy a house or condo, you become a home improvement project person; that wasn't in the online class I took before I was approved for my loan. I bought a place that was move-in ready for a reason - I don't want to start my first home buying experience with big projects. Even painting is a big deal. I'm a firm believer in living in a place six months to a year before any major project begins. I want to live in the space before I start changing it. Will I paint my bedroom? Probably, but I'd like to move all my furniture first. Do I hate the guest bathroom shower floor? Yes, it looks like a gym bathroom, but it works and I have years to live before changing it. I'm not going anywhere and I need to save money to do something like that.

It's not to say that I don't need to do things around the condo to make it my own. I knew when moving in I would need to set up an office space for myself. It was one of the things I most wanted when I bought a place; a dedicated work space instead of using the kitchen table. My brother gave me the idea of making the nook in my living room into my office. Genius! My living room is oddly shaped, so I was having a hard time deciding where to put furniture. Once he suggested an office nook, the whole room took started to come together. I found a desk and bookcase for the space. I spent a month contemplating office chairs (I didn't want wheels on my carpet), and finally found one that works. It's come together nicely, and I like my little work space. I work from home at least once a week and the separation is nice. I also feel like I'll be able to better organize my paperwork (because I have so much now) and my writing. Today's post is the first post written from my new desk. I hung the photos I took of New Orleans on one wall and art work by Kelly and Anita on the other.

With the office nook completed (basically), I decided to shift my attention to something I knew was going to be more challenging, mostly because I'm super indecisive.

Curtains.

Yes, curtains. Curtains are one of those things that should be incredibly easy to deal with in a home. You find the curtains you want, you buy appropriate curtain rods and hardware, you put everything up, you hang the curtains. Done. Simple. 

There is nothing simple about curtains.

First of all, there are thousands of options for curtains. Thermal, light blocking, non-fade, countless materials. What color do you want? And while you're thinking about color, if you opt for thermal curtains you basically live in a cave if you pick a color like gray. Then there's textures - do you want to spice it up with a nice weave pattern? The fact that we can literally access millions of items for sale on sites like Amazon makes curtain shopping more like car shopping. I was overwhelmed. 

I have eleven windows to cover. Five in the living room, two in the guest room, three in my bedroom, and one in the kitchen. The kitchen window is the only one not getting a curtain (for now). I kept the curtains from my old bedroom and decided to use them in the guest room. One room down, two to go. I decided thermal curtains would be a good option. It's a lot of windows and I've definitely been able to feel the cold without any window covering. I found a few options online I liked, gray for the living room, coral for my bedroom (goes with my comforter). They arrived the next day (thank you, Amazon Prime). I bought curtain rods at Home Depot. (They're in the same curtain rod family as the one for the sliding glass door. Yes, I just typed "curtain rod family.") I unpacked one pack and realized I made a horrible decision - the curtains were way too dark. They sucked all of the light out of my home and it was sad. So they had to go back.

I headed back to Amazon and found another design I like, this time selecting "privacy" curtains. This means that light will come through, but I still get the privacy of a heavier curtain. Perfect. I selected white for the living room. The company had a coral color so I was able to keep that vision for my bedroom. I looked at about sixteen different curtains before settling on these. In my rush to order, I didn't realize I ordered the wrong length. I didn't discover this until my dad came over to help me replace a part in the guest bathroom toilet and we decided to install the curtain rods. Too short! So I had to return those curtains and order a brand new set in the right length. Thank goddess for the fact that you can drop off Amazon returns at Kohl's and not pay to return items. I would have lost money on this "project" if this wasn't an option. 

I purchased curtains three times. Three times! I couldn't believe I had to buy three sets of curtains to accomplish this "small" task. Yesterday, after three weeks of ordering and sending curtains back, I finished installing all the curtain rods (also a project of its own) and hung the curtains. They look nice, and I don't feel as weird leaving the blinds up for Keely now that I have curtains. 

I don't know if Keely is 100% behind the addition of curtains to our home. He knows how to jump behind them to get into the window, but sometimes looks at me like I've ruined his life by making him work for it. However, he did discover a fun game that involves peeking out from behind a curtain like the creeper he is.

I know there's more to do around here; the guest room is still full of boxes of stuff that doesn't have a home yet (my records and art books primarily). I need to move some furniture from my parents' house to here, but for now I think I'll take a little project break. It'll all get done eventually. I'm in no rush. I'm going to sit back and enjoy my new home. 

Coming in February: It's Carnival Time - glitter purses and Nyx 2020, we discuss my new Netflix addiction, and we get ready for Women's History Month. 

My 40th Year on Earth: So what did I actually do?

Welcome to the last Island post of 2019 and the first post written from my new home! As I write this, Keely is sitting behind the curtain of the sliding glass door (his favorite spot), looking out into the dark morning. He may never come out of his hiding place. Maybe Keely understood 2019 better than all of us.

I always go into a new year trying my best to be optimistic and hopeful. Last year, around this time, I decided that I was going to spend 2019 doing things that I've always wanted to do but hadn't gotten around to doing. I wanted to live my 40th year on Earth (I turned 40 in June) in a way that included fun, challenge, and whimsy. I devised an impressive list of what I would try to accomplish:

• January: Participate in a Polar Bear Plunge to benefit Special Olympics VA. (ON)
• February: Ride in my first Mardi Gras parade. Hail Nyx! (FF)
• March: Actually sing at a karaoke night.  (T)
• April: Mastering the Art of French Cooking - I'll make a four course meal from this iconic cookbook. (ON)
• May:  Take a welding/jewelry class. (ON)
• June: Experience my 40th Birthday Extravaganza. I don't know what this means yet, but I'll figure it out. (FF)
• July: Launch my podcast, Don't Be a Jerk at Work. (T)
• August: Enter the Arlington County Fair baking contest, probably in the holiday cookie category.
• September: Take drum lessons. (FF)
• October: Go to Hershey Spa because why wouldn't I want to go to a chocolate spa? (PS - I don't like strangers touching me, so this is both a fun goal and a little uncomfortable for me.) (FF)
• November: Put The Craftery plan on paper. (T)
• December: Send Transient Suburbia proposal to at least two publishers. (T)

I classified these activities into three categories: For Fun (FF), Terrifying (T), and Outside the Norm but Still Different (ON). 

So what did I end up doing in 2019? Of the twelve activities, I completed six (links to the posts about each one are in the above list). I jumped into cold water for charity, I rode in a freaking parade, and I sang in public. I didn't make a four course meal from MTAOFC, but I did make the Queen of Sheba cake, one of Julia Child's most famous cake recipes. We threw a huge party at a winery to celebrate my birthday, my dad's birthday, and his retirement. I also embraced my inner old person during the month of June by getting irrationally mad because someone parked in my parking spot. 

I also listened to all four solo KISS albums so you never have to. I'm giving in that way. 

There were things I didn't do, and most of the things I didn't do were big things. These are projects I really care about, but am still not 100% in the right mindset to work on them. That's been something I've really focused on in 2019: mindset. No, this is not a post about Carol Dweck. I tend to focus on the things that could go wrong very quickly or what won't work, and I've made a concerted effort in 2019 to do the opposite. So I didn't send my novel to a publisher or start a podcast or figure out how to one day open my craft store. That's okay. Those things aren't supposed to happen right now. They'll happen when they're supposed to happen. Maybe this sounds like a cop out, but I don't think it is. I want to be able to focus on these projects to make the most of them. I wouldn't have been able to give them the attention they deserve this year. For me, that would be worse than failing. 

Instead of those things, I bought a house, admitted to being a perfectionist and how I need to let that go, presented at my first professional conference, celebrated one year with Keely, and went to Game 4 of the NLCS to see the Nationals advance to the World Series (I also went to the World Series parade because the Nats won). I got a button maker for my birthday and I went axe throwing. 

2019 was a year of introspection for me. I spent a lot of time thinking about what would make me happy, not my parents or my friends, but me. I bought a house (condo, but you know what I mean), something I really never saw myself doing. I got promoted, and have been focusing on being a better manager, which means failing spectacularly but doing it anyway. I asked for help, probably more than I have before. I also had a freaking blast this year, even when things were stressful. I got to spend time with people I love dearly. I rode in a freaking parade (I know I said this already)! I made glitter purses, probably the most frivolous thing I can do. Fun, challenge, whimsy - that's what I did in 2019.

Happy New Year from the Island! 

See you in 2020 for more glitter, Keely, and whatever else I decide to share.

My 40th Year on Earth: Someone sold a house to a child

I was out at dinner with my brother on Thursday. He wanted to introduce me to a restaurant near my new place (Italian/Greek combo, good fettuccine, excellent caramel crunch cake). It was the eve of my closing, and we were discussing being adults and how weird it is that I'm buying a condo and my brother is approximately four years away from retirement. We discussed how, despite our ages (my brother is 46), we still think of other people, like our parents and aunts and uncles, as adults, but we're not. I mean, we are, but we're not. I feel like I've had this conversation before; just because you do adult things (don't be dirty) doesn't mean you think of yourself as an adult.

Until you buy a house.

I don't know if it's the amount of money involved, the fact that negotiation may/will occur, that a loan officer is involved, or the fact that you have to sign a gazillion pieces of paper to get the keys, but buying a house is the epitome of adulthood. It involves credit checks, employment verification, getting a cashier's check, and at least four types of insurance. I can't think of anything more adult than four types of insurance. I didn't know there were so many types of insurance involved in one transaction. Why didn't they teach us this in school? I had to learn how to line dance in PE and dissect a frog, but learned nothing about title insurance. I feel like knowing about title insurance should trump knowing how to do the Electric Slide.

And it feels weird. Not bad weird, but "I didn't think I'd do this" weird. It's no secret that I'm not really following a traditional timeline kind of life. I'm 40, and don't have kids or a husband, and have rented an apartment for all of my adult life. I revel in calling Keely my cat son, particularly when it makes the person I'm talking to uncomfortable. I got my driver's license when I turned 20 (fun fact I bet you didn't know about me). The idea of following some sort of predetermined life has always bothered me. We all do things in our own time, and we all have to get better about understanding that. Let people live their best lives even if those lives aren't the way it's always been.

This is why I'm surprised that I decided to buy a house. I've never been opposed to the idea of home ownership, I just never thought it was a me thing. Just like not teaching us about all the types of insurance that exist and what escrow really is, school doesn't prepare anyone for all of the sudden feeling like you need to do something you never thought you'd do. It doesn't prepare you for having to discuss square footage, floor types, condo fees, and parking. I can't exactly explain, but one day I just couldn't face the idea of renting another apartment. I want to paint. I want to redo a bathroom in three years. I want more space.

I closed on my house on Friday. I made delightful small talk with a notary from the title company, my loan officer, and my realtor (because I'm so good at small talk), and signed all the documents and gave them all my money (not all, but you know what I mean). I got my keys, a folder full of papers (which I'll also get electronically apparently), and a promise that my deed will come in the mail. I celebrated by having lunch with my parents and buying a unicorn key chain for my new keys.

Today, I sat on the floor of my new home and stared at the walls for about an hour. I hung the shower curtain in my bathroom, determined that Keely and I will continue to share said bathroom, and figured out that the desk I was going to take from my parents' house is probably too big for the spare room. I met a neighbor, who I'm pretty sure is the neighborhood watch. I still have no idea where my couch is going to go or the television. I glanced through the very large file of appliance manuals the previous owner left me; these very fancy appliances are mine now and I don't know how any of them work. I started planning where my dishes and baking stuff is going to go. I realized that I have a lot of dinosaur decor, which may negate the fanciness of the fireplace. I made a list of all the stuff I still need to buy (garbage cans, don't forget new garbage cans). I tried to remember how to turn on the fireplace, but my mind went blank (my dad probably knows how it works). I wondered if my furniture would look okay or if I'm going to hate everything I own.

And then I laid on the floor in my living room and it was very quiet. I felt at home.

Coming soon to the Island: We recap the year that was 2019, Keely moves into the new house, and I update you on all that glitters in preparation for Nyx 2020!

"And then you have to sacrifice a goat..."

Earlier this week, I found myself laying on the floor of my apartment in what I guess was corpse pose, waiting for my realtor to call me back. Keely sat on my chest and purred. He bores easily so it was only a few minutes before he scampered into my bedroom to watch birds or whatever is outside at 6:45 pm. I stayed on the floor for a little while longer. When I did eventually get up, I felt a little less stressed. Maybe it was the yoga pose, maybe it was the cat. I can't really tell you, but I do know I got up and didn't want to cry or punch someone. It was a good feeling.

Last time I posted here on the Island, I was on my way out the door to spend the weekend looking at properties. A lot has happened since that weekend; I looked at eight places (16 total), had a stress dream involving a dog that doesn't exist, fell in love with a condo, put an offer in on said condo (property #15), and have been playing the "let's hope the seller says yes to this perfectly normal thing I'm requesting" game over and over again. I had to write a letter, explaining why I was the only person who should get to buy this condo, including a picture of me and my cat son. This was prompted by the fact that I asked for coverage on closing costs in my offer, a totally normal thing to do, but apparently it made me into a monster. Since we all know Keely is the most handsome cat in the world, I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that the letter did the trick, and we moved on to the next phase of the process.

Not the image I sent, but you can understand why including a photo of him was "important." I call this one "Keely on the Cover of Tiger Beat."

Y'all, buying a house is ridiculous. I don't know who came up with this process, but seriously, it's ridiculous. I'm incredibly organized, have a background in theatre, and work in corporate America, so my tolerance for checklists, nonsense, and unreasonable people is super high. I was not prepared to feel like an idiot 97% of the time, or feel like I was asking for something outlandish when I was not. I get it, it's a negotiation. It's someone else's home currently (not really, but you know what I mean). I am not, in any way, shape, or form, trying to take advantage of the seller. I'm also not an idiot, but feel this way daily. How many types of insurance are there and how many do we all need? And why does leaving my current insurance carrier feel like a breakup? How many copies of my tax returns, pay stubs, and 3rd grade report card do you need? Would you like a reference from the pet sitter I used when I lived in California? I'm sure I can track her down. If not her, how about a guy I went to high school with, but haven't spoken to in 20 years? We're friends on Facebook, so he knows what's up in my life.

My corpse pose moment earlier this week was brought to you by the appraisal process. We made it through the home inspection addendum with minimal argument; I asked for a few things to be fixed, the seller agreed. I signed the addendum while attending a Letters to Cleo concert. This feels like the least/most Gen X thing I've ever done, but whatever, I had to get it done. First, I had to pay $50 to have the condo association send a piece of paper to my lender. Was it printed in fancy ink or on special paper? No, it was not. It was prepared as an electronic document and emailed to the lender. Then, the actual appraisal took place. Of course, the condo appraised for less than my offer, so we had to go back with another addendum and more waiting and more negotiating and more stress. I offered something where we met in the middle; that's what a negotiation is supposed to include, and then I laid on the floor of my apartment and quietly tried to keep from yelling at people or sobbing uncontrollably. 

By some weird quirk of the universe, a Gilmore Girls marathon was on the UP network on Thanksgiving. My father also loves this show, so we ended up watching a large portion of the marathon, getting my mom and brother in on it too. (I believe we've mad them fans - my evil plan is working.) The season they were playing? Season Four, which is my favorite season of the show. In this season, the GG are going through buckets of change and not doing particularly well at managing it all. It's the season of the opening of the Dragonfly Inn, Rory's first year at Yale, Liz's wedding, Sookie's first kid, Lane moving out of the Kim household, and Sebastian Bach joining the cast. It's perfect on many levels. It's also a hard season to watch because it feels stressful for everyone, but that always makes me feel better. Fictional stress makes real stress easier to manage.

There is a scene in the episode called "The Incredible Sinking Lorelais" where Lorelai has a breakdown and ends up asking Luke to borrow money to finish the inn (not the way she wanted to ask him) after everything goes wrong for her. She's just come from being berated by her grandmother for the possibility that the inn will fail and tarnish the Gilmore name. A sink arrived that Sookie was supposed to approve, but Sookie didn't show up, and the sink went back to Canada. They don't have enough money to finish the inn. She hasn't talked to Rory in days. Luke is listening to her vent everything, and she talks about not having a partner (she's referring to a husband, not her business partner). This scene hit me hard this time around since I've been thinking the exact thing recently. Yes, I'm an adult lady who can do things, but it's exhausting. It's exhausting doing everything by yourself. Making decisions, paperwork, packing, managing everything. It's exhausting, but we're not supposed to talk about how being single is exhausting. Single people are supposed to be happy in our single lives, and not complain about being alone. We made a choice and we're supposed to accept it and move on. Blah, blah, blah.

Like Lorelai, I like my life a lot, but that doesn't mean it's not horribly stressful sometimes and too much to deal with. And yes, I know I'm lucky to have a supportive family and friends and colleagues. I'm incredibly thankful for them, especially two of my friends who have recently gone through this process and have been super helpful. It's just a lot, and I would like it to be over so I can move onto the fun part of this whole experience. There's a fun part, right? There has to be a fun part. If there's not a fun part, then signing 700 documents, reading all of the condo association bylaws and surveys, and watching 3 hours of an online training course on being a home buyer were all for nothing.

The final addendum was accepted, and now we move forward. If all things go well, I'll have the keys to my new home in less than two weeks. I plan to move in after Christmas, but in time for New Year's Eve. I'm hoping the path to closing is smoother than the path to get here and doesn't involve , I don't know, sacrificing a goat.

I've come to believe anything is possible (not in a Debbie Gibson kind of way) with the process of buying a home, so sacrificing a goal is not out of the realm of possibility.