Thursday, January 26, 2012

Living in a box

Once you take the sofa, our battered old screen, and some of the other random stuff out, it becomes even more painfully apparent how boxlike our apartment is. Not just in its size (shoebox) but its shape. Rabbit Hutch is being too kind, in that it suggests a nice rustic, indoor-outdoor vibe. Nope, our place is just a box. A small, oblong box.

I'm sure we'll miss these clean straight lines when we move into a London flat. Those old London houses don't have a right angle anywhere, and sloping floors and doors that don't quite shut right are common. All part of the charm though...

For the next few days, though, we are in a rather charmless environment of blank walls and newly exposed pieces of perfectly parqueted, straight-edged, flooring.

Not only are we living in a box, we are also increasingly surrounded by boxes. Not nany, as the packers will do most of the packing (guess that's how they got their name). But as we Craig's List our furniture, we need a place to put the contents of that furniture. So the desk and the chest of drawers have been replaced by boxes.

This post sounds a bit moany so far, but to be honest I'm perfectly happy. It's only for a few days, and then I'm homeward bound.

Who needs a sofa, or a dining table and chairs, anyway?
And meanwhile, even when we're living in and out of boxes, we do okay. Take last night's 'we're moving, no time or energy to cook, nowhere to sit and eat' dinner: Italian spaghetti sauce with meatballs (courtesy of Connecticut's best family's Italian grandmother's recipe), and a properly decanted bottle of Honig Cabernet Sauvignon (courtesy of our favourite New Yorker). Oh, and homemade dulce de leche for pudding (had to use that tin of condensed milk up somehow).

Yes, we'll survive this box life for a few more days.

No comments:

Post a Comment