Sayen CroWolf's Blog

A Domestic Life 2010/02/20

In the span of a few short days, Simon and I have made leaps and bounds toward securing our life of domesticity that we crave so badly.  Just prior to returning to Chicago, I received word from my tenants they were done with the house, moving out, and gave me a forwarding address for their security deposit.  Well, I couldn’t have asked for better news!  No transient corporate housing for us.  Talk about a total score!

The house was left in less-than-pristine condition.  I was expecting that there was some work that would have to be done.  When they initially told me they were leaving, I asked for permission to enter so I could do an inspection.  I really was looking at structural needs, not whether or not I’d have to have the hardwood floors refinished because they were yucky.  The short version is that they aren’t getting their security deposit back, but I will be sending them in itemization of exactly how I spent it.  Every bit of it, in fact.  Right down to the last nickel.

So, completing that little task, the movers brought all our things I packed in London from the docks.  Talk about a brilliant idea:  They worked hard; they worked fast, and get this: every time they brought something in the house they went out of their way to kick off their work boots so they wouldn’t muddy-up the floors.  Seriously: how freaking impressive is that?  I know that might not seem like much of anything but to me that’s attention to detail.  I think I’m going to adopt one of their hardest working employees – Jason.  He’s 16, MRDD, a major sweetheart, and when you ask this company to send you assistance in unpacking and putting things away he’s the Executive In charge of Restoring Order to your Household.  He did a better job putting things away than I could have.  And his sense of logic as to what went where and why it went there was far superior to anything I could have come up with.  I was just bowled over with how Jason did his job, and I was really touched too.  I could see in every box he unpacked that he wasn’t just doing a job, his sense of ownership was what was driving him.  Overall, they did such a great job and treated our house with such a sense of respect and ownership that I’d recommend them to anybody that asked.  Simon and I took them out for pizza and beer (for them) last night as a thank you.  They earned a lot more than what I paid.

We met with Simon’s parents before we left London to say goodbyes and they laid a few housewarming “presents” on us.  When I think of a housewarming present, I think of a well thought out Bundt cake or a pan of lasagna.  Their idea of a little present changes your net worth.  They both have done well for themselves in life and believe in sharing it with their kids (and spouses).  Initially, the size of what they offered kind of creeped me out a bit and I told Simon as much.  While he understands my reluctance at accepting their generosity he did make it crystal clear to me:   this is simply how they are, and to refuse would be insulting them.  There are no strings, no expectations – just here you go sport, enjoy.  So I am deferring to Simon’s judgment on this one.  It looks like we’re opening up an Ikea outlet store, I have boxes absolutely everywhere and a squadron of friends and their partners coming over later to help us put it all together.  I’m feeding them all, they’re assembling.  I haven’t seen a lot of these people in ages, and I’ve missed them so much.

Last night was our first night in the house and I’ll tell you something: Simon and I can both tell Richard is still here.  It’s not wishful thinking; it’s not my memories superimposing his presence back into a house where we built our lives.  All of us felt it the strongest in the garden, Richard’s favorite place of all.  I had a friend here last night to help me bless the house and he felt it too.  More on this later.

So, there you have it.  We’re that much closer to obtaining that normal life we’ve both been craving.  We’re very happy – even if the house is buried in boxes at the moment