We moved into our house just over two weeks ago and have accomplished quite a few important tasks on the move-in checklist.
Internet, electricity, and water are flowing like wine.
The boxes are unpacked and the furniture unloaded and I have come to terms with the fact that NOTHING from our charming 1930s Cape Cod works in our 1970s Modern. My Ebay/Craig's List store opens this week.
We've met with our architect several times and the plans for the renovation of said 1970s Modern have been aligned upon by the key stakeholders. This little project will probably be a series of posts that start out as "Dream Home" and devolve to "The Dust."
The one unchecked box reads, "Meet Your Neighbors."
On the day we moved in, I daydreamed about a Neighborhood Welcoming Committee that would shower us with casseroles for the first week. Eating a pizza amid boxes on Night 1, I realized this creepy slash utopian scenario was not to be.
"That's ok," I thought, "they are probably giving us time to get settled." Still no one came. So I started going over to them. I tried several times and thought I'd struck gold on one visit only to learn I had introduced myself to the cleaning lady.
We stuck our noses up at planned communities because we wanted to live in an authentic neighborhood and here we are, experiencing authentic neighbors who seem to not really care about the newest residents. The casserole clause in the planned community contract is lacking out on the real streets.
However, I will not be deterred. I want to know my neighbors by name and if I have to don a sweater jacket in 100 degree heat and ask them to be my neighbor via song, I'll do it.