Part 1 ended a while ago.
The last couple of years have been an intermission of sorts.
But as of yesterday, I am the proud co-owner of a lil' Cove house. After our closing (with my old-school, salty, awesome Irish lawyer who owned Rudy's for 13 years some eons back), Ian and I celebrated with some sandwiches from P&M Deli in Branford. I capped it off with a black and white cookie, and then we hit Job Lot to get exciting cleaning supplies, a hose, and other miscellaneous items for the house. As Ian noted, it's the first of about 30 trips over the next 30 days to the store to "get something for the house". Only 30 trips? I'm sure I can top that. I can bet we'll hit Ikea at least 10 times in there, too.
Armed with an arsenal of chemicals to strip the place of dirt and grime (Note: I really don't like oven cleaner, but in this case I have no option but to use it), we arrived at the house and got busy. No, not that kind of "busy", which we'll get to soon enough. Instead, we cleaned. And cleaned. Ian replaced light bulbs and hooked up the dehumidifier in the basement. He cleaned the toilets (without me asking him to! Oh how I LOVE this man!) while I tackled the kitchen.
When we had first toured the house before our initial bid, I opened the cabinets and found them full of peanut butter and almonds and all kind of nuts. Great for the sellers, because I used to live on that stuff. But it's not so great for Sean, since my little guy is so sensitive to nuts that just the dust of all those pistachio shells on the shelves (and there are many--did a mouse live in there?) can make him sick. It's not me being paranoid. Wait--maybe it is. But there is reason: He really is that sensitive. He's six and we've already had to call 911 twice for the guy, since just trace amounts of the stuff closes up his throat and causes him to vomit uncontrollably. I don't really want him to have to go through that again.
So I'm cleaning THE FUCK out of that kitchen.
Hence the chemicals.
It's only 7:30, but I'm ready to rock out today. Ian's bartending a wedding, so I'll be on my own at the house, radio on and dog in the backyard. The kids come home with their dad around 3 or so. He'll bring them to the new house and finally get to see it. He's such a good sport about it all, but I know on some level this isn't easy for him. And so despite the fact that he and Ian get along quite well, I'm glad I will be the only one at the house when he brings the kids home.
We've already had visitors, though. Within minutes of arriving to clean the house yesterday, Ian's sister and her infant son showed up to hang out with us. Some people have their homes blessed by clergy of one denomination or another. My house was blessed by a baby. What's better than that? Later, my friend (and now next door neighbor!) Mary showed up with her son, who is Nolan's best buddy. They hung out for a while, and she assured me, "We're not sensitive, so if we become too much and you need to kick us out in the future or send Sean (her oldest son is Sean, too) home, we're not going to be offended. We know we can be a pain in the ass that way."
I love the girl.
She also happens to be a Yankee fan, and her husband is a Sox fan. And since Ian hates the Yanks, I forsee many seasons ahead of girls-only and boys-only households hunkered down in front of the TV.
But back to cleaning.
I'm leaving in five to finish cleaning my new house. (The big move is a week from today.)
The rocker is already on the front porch for when I need a little respite.
Neighbors will come knocking--and in the case of Mary, probably just walk in.
The furniture isn't in yet, but it already feels like home.