A collection of thoughts on moving

We moved into our new house Thursday. And Friday, and today. We're getting there. Only a few things remain at the old apartment, like all the refrigerated food, since our new refrigerator, ordered 4 weeks ago, still hasn't come. Was on hold 90 minutes today trying to get info about that before giving up.

And a computer power cord was left at the old place, inadvertently put in the electronics recycling pile. And maybe our knife block is there. Who knows what else in a half-packed box we didn't notice was put out with the recycling. We'll have to go back and see. So goes moving.

At least I found the wing nut from the trailer bike that flew out of my hand and rolled under a handicap ramp in the service driveway as I was disassembling said bike. It only took two requests to borrow a flashlight from a neighbor since ours had been packed and moved, procuring the flashlight 12 hours later but then misplacing it while scrubbing down our old apartment, being called away to the new place with the checkbook to pay a contractor who had stopped by for payment, returning to the old place a second time later in the day and finding the flashlight, then going downstairs and searching on hands and knees for about 5 minutes under the ramp. Then Edith inched out the wing nut from under the ramp with the butt end of a broom. And now Alice will be able to ride secure on the back of my bike once more. Assuming I haven't lost the wing nut in the transfer to the new house; I realize it must be in the pocket of the shorts I just threw in the hamper. So every tiny object assumes inordinate importance in the midst of a move.

We thought we'd be rattling around in a six-bedroom house, having come from a small apartment. Instead, we seem to be experiencing a jack-in-the-box phenomenon, in which someone finally let go the lid, and we've burst to assume our natural size when no longer under pressure. The house is full. After years of asking visiting family to find a hotel room in the vicinity, we suddenly can sleep ten in our house, and that's without resorting to couches, air mattresses, or sleeping bags.

On Day 2 we received a helpful wake-up call about city street parking, when I got in the car and saw the glove box open, the wipes removed, and the CDs taken out of the center console. Nothing missing, but a good reminder to Tom (and me) about the importance of locking the car.

1. Neighbors we met during the six weeks we owned the place before moving in, during quick visits:

(a) Lame elderly man who nevertheless walks the block every day, 30 years a lobbyist for Philadelphia in Harrisburg, retired, living with his wife and adult special-needs son, "the mayor of Woodbine Avenue," a talker, but even-keeled and unassuming

(b) Loquacious, livelier elderly gentleman next door, 4 years old when he moved into the house, later bought it from his parents, wanted to go to seminary but went into psychology instead, eager to have a theology book group with Tom, greets us by name every time he sees us, has been mowing our lawn for us until we can get a hand-me-down mower

(c) Interracial young couple with 2-year-old boy and (when we met them) 2-day-old boy, just home from the hospital; both work at UPenn

(d) African-American mother and 12-year-old son in the other side of our duplex, moved in last summer; Tom met the dad, too, but I didn't until today. He's young, friendly, fixing up the other side of the house himself when not working night shifts at the hospital at Drexel

2. Neighbors we met today, our first Saturday in the neighborhood:

(e) I met the next-door neighbor mentioned immediately above

(f) A UPenn editor of a journal in chemistry, a grandmother, raised her kids in the house, grandchildren now grown, too, she's still working in the Penn chem department, a cat lady, married

(g) Spanish? Italian? gay man from across the street whose home is stunning--it has just gone on the market for $3/4 million because his partner is itchy to try another Philadelphia neighborhood after a decade, but he's sad to leave the neighborhood; he plopped down on our porch and discussed what a great block it is, great neighborhood, how socioeconomically diverse, the criminality of underfunding public education in America and around the world (it came up because the schools here are a barrier to people with kids moving in, unless they can afford exorbitant private education), and a multitude of other topics

We also saw and talked today to all the people we'd met earlier. Not bad for a first Saturday in the house when we were also hosting Edith's school friend and her family from around the corner, my college friend, and our next-door neighbors from Baldwin. Nice to have a move where friends can send you off with well wishes from your old place, then show up two days later at your new place to check it out.

The move accentuates how much Edith is growing up. The girls now have their own rooms, and Alice got the bunk bed and all the Pottery Barn pastels, while Edith got a hand-me-down, full-sized bed from my boss's daughters, and for it she chose a sophisticated white comforter with a single red and gray vine on it. Suddenly she doesn't have a little girl room anymore. Add the fact that she spent the day moping about being bored and wanting to get together with her friends, and it seems we suddenly have an older kid.

Hadn't realized how reflexive the habit had become of flinching whenever a kid dropped something or stomped her feet. "Think of the Benke-Thompsons!" was our refrain, meaning of course the downstairs neighbors. We're still flinching, and on the verge of scolding, before we catch ourselves.

On a final note, our bunnies are now outdoor creatures once again, with a new hutch in the yard. When we let them out to roam they are delirious with joy to have grass in which to bound, rather than a linoleum floor on which they never really had traction. We're just as happy to see them in their natural habitat...and not to share our bathroom with the rabbit litter box.

That's all for today...