Expats.

I am utterly confounded by people whom, having no citizenship rights, and therefore no real ability to MAKE MONEY, in their adopted new home, manage to relocate to a new country. Can someone please tell me if a trust fund is the key to a new location in life? Is it simply being creative (and successful enough to make a living out of said creativity) that allows people to work from anywhere in the world? I'd like to know, because sometimes I think I could use a serious change.

Housekeeping.

Eloise can keep the Plaza. After living in a hotel (albeit one of New York's swankier establishments) for over a week all I wanted was the familiarity of home. Room service is effing tiring after a while, you know?

Now we're moved back in. And though everything smells like paint and polyurethane, it's good to be back where I belong.

Stupid question

I have now twice tried, and failed, to get something posted on Apartment Therapy's "Good Question" page. Am I missing something obvious?

I said I wasn't going to complain...

...but I have a SPEEDBUMP in my hardwood floors downstairs! Don't even ask me to tell the story of how it got there. Pfft.

Thanksgivinging.

Ich bin eine Brooklyner.

We did it. Papers were signed, checks were written and keys exchanged. I have no idea what I agreed to, and for all I know I've just signed legal documents certifying that I am, in fact, a monkey's uncle. None of that matters for the time being as we're just too happy settling into our new space and enjoying ALL THE ROOM!

Now we have two more days to work on unpacking before we're off to a long weekend for a wedding in Texas, and then three more after our return before we host Thanksgiving dinner. I'm hoping that if I strategically place the new bar cart (fully stocked, of course) right by the door no one will notice the boxes shoved under and behind the furniture. Hey, it could work, right?

Nothing to see here.

There's been lots going on, but none of it very interesting to the outsider I'm afraid. We are closing on our very first home* in just under two weeks. I don't know when it will feel real and I will stop feeling a ittle bit protective and superstitious about it, maybe when I have the keys in my hand? Perhaps after we've moved in? When I write the first check for my mortgage payment?

So for the next two and a half weeks we will be in the process of moving -- cleaning out drawers and cabinets and nooks and crannies, (have I mentioned how much of a packrat I am? No? Well, it's bad...) sealing things up with boxes and tape, picking out shiny new things to go in ALL THE EXTRA SPACE**! But I won't post any pictures until it is really, truly ours, so until then, it may be a bit quiet around here. See you on the other side.

* We live in New York, so by "home" I mean apartment, but it is ours nonetheless.
**For the last 14 months the two of us have shared a 250 square foot studio. Our new apartment is a whopping 600 square feet spread out over TWO FLOORS! We may get lost! We may not know if the other is home! It will be enormous!

Personal space.

In preparation for our move in six weeks (!!!) I have begun to make lists. Lists of things to do, things to keep, sell, make or buy. And having sorted out what will and won't work in our new home, I'm purging furnature via Craigslist. I find the whole process unsettling on a number of levels. It always seems like someone is getting scammed on one end or the other and the idea of inviting strangers into my apartment to assess my things makes me uncomfortable. Unfortunately, it's a necessary evil as I don't see any other quick and dirty way to part with our (barely used! in like-new condition! lovely antique!) things for a few dollars.

Signed, sealed, delivered.

It's done. We've signed on the dotted line, and with a few more hoops to jump through in the next 6 weeks we'll be Brooklynites come the middle of November. I have already started to make my fantasy furniture list... now I just have to wrap my mind around the packing.

New beginnings.

After one disappointment a better opportunity arose, and now we are deep in the heady mix of the real estate process -- filling out forms, making copies, sending off packets of the portions of our lives that exist on paper.

I find it a little thrilling, albeit exhausting. Mr. P finds it all a bit terrifying and overwhelming. We have so much on our plates now it's so easy to feel like we're drowning in responsibility and obligation. It will all be incredibly worth it when we come out the other side, with new qualifications, a new neighborhood and on the brighter end of this experience.

A little deflated.

The New York real estate market is a cutthroat business. We arrived at our appointment on Friday to find that an offer had already been accepted and the agent hadn't told us, today I got an email telling me the contract had been signed. We had already fallen a little bit in love, and are now a tiny bit heartbroken. Next time we'll take the emotions a little slower and make appointments a little quicker.

Today's the day.

Today's the day, today's the day, today's the day...

So excited about seeing this apartment I can hardly stand it. It feels like the beginning of a relationship, that part where you are almost crawling out of your skin with anticipation of the next time you'll meet. Our real estate rendezvous will be followed by dinner out in the neighborhood which should be pretty fantastic too.

Just have to contain myself for a few more hours.

Growing pains

We are trying to buy a house. Not a house really, an apartment. A tiny one.

I'm married, I live all the way across the country from my parents and have for 8 years, but it's this step that's starting to make me feel a bit like an adult. I think it would more so if we didn't need to ask our parents for help with our down payment, but it's New York, and we are not rich.

I'm almost afraid to write about our hunt here. There is a place that we've found. We've fallen in love with it on paper, poring over the photos from the Times. Over the weekend we snuck into the building; so easy when delivery men are being buzzed in right in front of you. We just wanted to take a quick look around, have a few quiet minutes to explore nooks and hallways and staircases without the looming presence of a real estate agent. On Friday we see the actual apartment. I am a little terrified of either outcome; a little worried about the sadness of finding that we don't like it as much in person and shaking slightly at the idea of loving it, signing a piece of paper that indebts us further and the idea that I may have to face the fact that I am a grown-up after all.

Wish us luck.