Old place, ready to move out
True to my word, one week after the move, all of the boxes are unpacked, things are organized, and new furniture has been purchased and put together.  A move-in also somehow always requires several obligatory Target runs to buy things that you didn’t know you needed but now we have new towels, a shower squeegee, multiple shoe racks, and plastic bins upon plastic bins.  Looking back on over four years ago when I last moved, none of this should be a surprise to me, but my memory is short (good thing blogger’s is not).

New place, pre-move in

Unpacking

Mostly unpacked
The new place is quiet, especially in the mornings and evenings.  The Dallas skyline has disappeared, and it’s disconcerting to walk out of my home and not be surrounded by tall buildings on all sides.  Even more disconcerting is the five minute drive to work, which reminds me that I should go home for lunch from time to time since I find it impossible to pack and bring a lunch to work.

Even though B was loaded up with work trips dispersed throughout the last week, we managed to get his crap things moved in as well.  Thank god for the bonus storage closet in the basement garage or else we wouldn’t have been able to find a home for most of our rando-belongings.  For two city-dwelling people, we sure do have a lot of outdoor hobbies that require a lot of equipment: two tubs full of assorted horse “stuff,” golf clubs, tennis rackets, hockey equipment, etc.  Note to self: no new hobbies until old hobby accouterments have been purged.  Since the unit’s a new build, there’s a thick layer of concrete dust covering the garage floor and he’s spent the last two days mopping it out (better him than me).

The new place has a tiny yard in front of each unit, the convenient side effect of which is that I can spy on my neighbors as they enter/exit their units and walk their dogs.  And boy, are there a lot of dogs around the neighborhood.  Our current complex is surrounded by older condos, and everyone who lives there must own a dog.  Just yesterday, we saved a pup from certain death.  His owners put him in the tiny yard along with a full garbage bag, and he had ripped a hole in the bottom, dragged the trash out, and was eating it.  After knocking on their front door with no reply from within, we pulled the trash bag outside of the fence and removed the litter scattered around their yard.  The pup hid under a chair while we did this, naughty boy.

The biggest difference between the old place and the new place is that the new place is multi-story and has stairs.  A lot of stairs.  More stairs than I cared for when I was moving in and then unpacking.  Stairs down to the garage and then stairs up to the master bedroom and master bath.  I suppose the additional exercise never hurt anyone but my knees and back are killing me.  At least the washer / dryer are upstairs with the bedroom or else I’d be throwing dirty clothes down the stairs as a makeshift laundry chute.

I will do a photo tour sometime soon - maybe when we finish getting the rest of the art up on the walls.  Until then, I’ll keep myself busy by spying on the neighbors and asking to pet their dogs.