Simone seems to be doing well, and I have an hour to myself, so I feel it is time to tell you a tale of latent homosexuality, alcohol abuse, and truly hideous red and white tile—also known as the story of how we came to be moving at the end of this month.
Yes, we are moving. Again. For the third time in two years. You may remember my previous moves, in which case you are probably asking yourself one of three questions:
1. What is wrong with these people?
2. Is her antidepressant prescription up to date?
3. No, really—what is wrong with these people?
The answers are 1. I don’t know, god help me; 2. Thankfully, yes; and 3. This is the last time we move until we buy a house, and if I have to sit on a toilet for two years to ensure that, well, so be it. Those of you who have not been reading as long may be wondering “Has Alexa started packing?” or “Does Alexa have time to pack?” and the answer to both of those is “No,” followed by a hollow laugh.
(Those of you who asked yourself no questions, instead making a snide comment about gauchos: VERY GODDAMN FUNNY).
Anyway. Last fall we got new upstairs neighbors. Almost immediately, the noise began—just after bar close, around 2:30 in the morning, mostly in the form of incredible thumps and crashes that shook our ceiling and were often accompanied by raucous laughter. This went on every weekend for some time, and around Christmas it started to unhinge my poor husband. I wasn’t delighted by it either, but as mentioned before, confrontation is not my strong suit, and it seemed easier to put up with being occasionally startled awake. I tried to see the bright side: attempting to figure out what on earth they were doing up there was a diverting puzzle that kept me occupied during many a nocturnal bathroom trip.
The obvious explanation was cow tipping. The tenants were two young men from Wisconsin in their early to mid twenties, boys who appeared unaware that they had left the perpetual keg party of college and entered the real world. Or perhaps they were confusing the real world with the television show of the same name. Anyway, my cow tipping theory, though it explained the window-rattling WHUMPs, was ultimately disproven when we found out what was really going on: drunk, shirtless wrestling.
I can’t remember exactly when we made this discovery, but it was after several calls to the building manager and multiple visits by the police. Our neighbors’ continued devotion to the sport baffled me. A few days after I was released from the hospital, I stormed upstairs at three a.m., my dislike of conflict temporarily overcome by roiling post-partum hormones and the fact that Scott’s endless hand-wringing about our living situation was getting on my very last nerve. One of the ruffians, Clompy—so named because he wears the world’s loudest cowboy boots—answered the door, weaving. As he slurred his apology, I looked past him to where his roommate sat, sans shirt, on a piece of furniture that had been pushed against the wall. Our building is a small, quiet one, its 12 apartments populated primarily by bookish types and professionals. These hoodlums had been warned, repeatedly, that further complaints would result in eviction, and yet nothing—not Scott, not the law, not my barrage of subliminal Brokeback jokes—could induce them to quit writhing intoxicated before a crowd of braying friends.
Eventually the inevitable happened. They were booted, and no-doubt fearing a repeat of my husband’s wrathful 2 a.m. phone calls with another tenant, the building’s owner offered us their top-floor apartment. Upon touring it, however, I declined. Our current apartment is Fancy. The apartment above has the same footprint and identical living/dining/bed rooms, but the kitchen and bath were horrifying, with outdated cabinetry, bizarre layouts, and the most revolting red-and-white-checkered linoleum I have ever seen. Not that I am a red-and-white-checkered linoleum connoisseur or anything, but trust me: it was unlivable. However when I explained this to the owner, he offered to completely renovate the wrasslers’ apartment, tearing up the linoleum, refinishing the hardwood floors, and installing all new granite countertops, bathroom tile, cabinetry, sinks, and toilet.
I have always wanted to have something renovated, and being able to do so without paying any of the money, doing any of the work, or absorbing any of the inconvenience of having my home ripped asunder was too great an enticement to resist. Besides, after the winter I have had, there is something appealing about a fresh start. A nice archaeologist couple has rented our apartment for May 1st, and we move the last week of April.
April being, of course, the month we are in now.
Is deciding to move just before my daughter comes home from the hospital (insert paranoid genuflection here) a form of postpartum psychosis, do you think? Or am I psychotic LIKE A FOX?
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No, not at all. Sure the timing is a little awkward and overwhelming…but I think your thought of a fresh start is spot-on. I’m so glad to hear Simone is kickin’ ass! Be careful to not wear yourself out with the move.
I’m going with psychosis, but the harmless kind — the kind that later on you can laugh about with your friends. Maybe.
Moving upstairs can’t be nearly as bad as a move that involves trucks and being outdoors and etc. Though not quite as easy as a move downstairs. Just think, you really don’t even need to pack, dresser drawers can be carried up while full of clothes, clothes on hangers can be immediately hung, you even know where they’ll go. Round up some friends who are hoping to have sore legs the next day and I bet it won’t take more than a few hours. Hire someone to clean the old apartment for you (and the new one before you move in).
Um, like a fox with a fresh start fetish? How nice is it to read about crap like moving and not Simone’s latest struggle with oxygen. No, I mean that. Means she’s becoming the feisty little independent babe. Let’s see some photos in your free time.
A fresh, clean, renovated home to bring Simone to. Sounds perfect. And moving upstairs will be a breeze compared to your previous, ummmm, incidents. (I vaguely recall gauchos being involved, but I’m sure that’s not true!)
Think of it this way. You will have a beautiful place to bring Simone home to. Plus you won’t have to move with a newborn. Do it while the nice nurses take care of the 3 am feedings. Once she gets home you won’t want to spend your precious time with her unpacking. I have to say that the only good part about my son being in the NICU was that it gave me time to rest, recover, and set up his nursery. I was completely unprepared. By the time he came home all the laundry was done and his stuff was ready. Plus I was all recovered from my c-section and could take care of him without the pain medicine. The NICU really sucks but if you have to have it then try to take advantage of that time to prepare.
It takes some of the horror out when you’re only moving upstairs. No u-haul to rent and if some things don’t make it to boxes, you just send Scott up and down a million times. And really, waht could be better than leaving a place where you experienced so much sadness to a place that is giving you a fresh start? You’ll have nothing but good memories in this new place. I vote psychotic like a FOX.
xo
whoa! definitely like a fox, babee.
i was actually leaning towards the nutso-bonkers vote until i realized you were not only moving just upstairs, but also to a totally renovated pad. without anyone above you. sounds gorgeous.
now you just need the packing fairies to come. best of luck. :)
Hmmm. I feel your thighs may tone that week… especially as you are Marching With The Babies as well! Absolutely no heavy lifting with your scar, mind, delegation is key. Loud bleating to friends & family may generate a small crowd of volunteers in varying states of reluctance. Work them shamelessly.
…Whatever happened to those gauchos, anyway?
I do not judge. I am simply saying that the stress of moving may push you to unearth them from whatever dark corner you have hidden them in. And that now that you are a mother, you must be extra vigilant, for it is a slippery slope from the gaucho to the mom jean.
PS A freshly renovated apartment sounds lovely.
As someone who also frequently overwhelms herself in the middle of chaos with new!awesome!ideas! I think it sounds reasonable.
I’m sure my husband, however, would be more apt to tell you never, ever to listen to me.
Hi!
We’re moving in July and will be renting out our lovely historic home in Hopkins if you’re interested. We just renovated the kitchen – its quite lovely I think. AND – the baby’s room is already painted with THE CUTEST mural ever.
drop me an email if you want to know more.
L
I’m in the crazy like a fox camp. The last thing you need with a newborn is NEW NEIGHBORS living above you doing who knows what. Moving to the top floor is smart, smart, smart. Hectic, but smart.
But do yourself a favor and hire like 10 movers for the day. At least half of them will show up, and if all of them show up, then so much the merrier. And DON’T turn your air conditioning off until 5 days after your planned move. :)
I usually post in a cheery, optimistic, glass-half-full sort of way, but it is April 1st, and I do tend to tell the truth . . . so here goes: you are psychotic, and indeed, a glutton for punishment. Moving is moving, the only difference when you stay in the same building is the truck can’t get lost or delayed. This is just as bad as every other move because you still have to pack, touch, move, clean or otherwise manipulate in some fashion every stinking thing you possess. The only good thing about this is it gives you a golden opportunity to unload a bunch of your possessions to make way for the inordinate amount of stuff that you will buy, receive, or otherwise acquire for Simone, who will soon have enough stuff to fill a baby boutique, even if your apartment can’t accomodate it. Good hunting!
I think the move is a wonderful idea. I know, the physical move will be a pain — but, like labor, a brief one :-)
Besides, new baby, new apartment, new life. It seems rather fitting.
Good luck, you crazy fox!
I think it is a splendid idea! New place, new memories to create, not a very far move, no more cow tipping potential badness. You are crazy, but in a good way! Yes, the good crazy!
wait. with a new baby to carry up and down stairs, why would you choose to climb ANOTHER flight of stairs???
I am going with “like a fox” you wily new mom you!
Why not just get all the stress piled into one month and then from May going forward life will be blissfully wonderful. At least that’s my wish for you and your sweet little girl.
LIKE A FOX fo sho. The new place will be very, very clean because it’ll be empty and you can just wipe EVERYTHING down, then only bring CLEAN, DEFINITELY-TO-BE-KEPT things a little at a time. Plus, new everything–WOOT!
Moving within the same building? Totally do-able. promise :) (from a fellow mover of several times in the last few years).
J
See if you can get them to use low VOC paint, etc. Because otherwise you’ll worry about all the chemicals you and Simone will be inhaling. Take it from an experienced paranoid.
I think really smart foxes look on Cra*gslist for really strong folks who are looking for reasons to avoid the gym. Smart and wily foxes really like plying these gym-avoiding people with lots of food, beer, and some plain ol’ cash. They’re wily, too, these gym-avoiders and they even put things *in* boxes, and then help you take them *out* of them on the other side! With your very gentle direction, of course, and a few reminders to have another glass of delicious iced tea between loads.
Then smart foxes get to live in deliciously fresh apartments, with a perfectly cute little fox-pup, and enjoy a glass of wine to toast the wrestlers who made this all possible!
Fresh start, may it be a sweet one!
While hauling the boxes and swearing, just assume that the new upstairs neighbors would have been no different and that moving Simone into your current apartment would have resulted in one incredibly miserable little family. As it is, you are moving with the comfort that you will never have to worry about inconsiderate drunks waking up your kick-ass baby whose respiratory genius will be matched only be her strong vocals (or worse of waking up her exhausted parents who are more deserving of a break than anyone ever).
I love what you said about needing (DESERVING, woman!) a fresh start. It sounds perfect.
For the pain of moving… I highly recommend advertising on craigslist for able-bodied, impoverished college students to climb the stairs in exchange for beer, pizza, and mayyyybe some light cash. Can’t hurt, might help!
We already live on the top floor thank god. But we still want to move. For some reason as of late our nice apartent complex has become the teenage drinking lot And many times they just lay in the parking lot puking all over my tires until I call the cops. Perhaps there is a big case of ‘the stupids’ going around! Yay to fresh starts!
Hey. We’ve moved 13 times in 16 years. Not kidding. One year, we moved to Atlanta, from Franklin, TN, back to Franklin in less than ELEVEN MONTHS. And in that eleven months? Got pregnant and gave birth to our 3rd child.
Do what you got to do, and you can do it. Good luck with it all. If all else fails, put some movers on your credit card.
Oooh – renovations but without having to actually live through them. Samrt like a Fox.
And just because it’s just one floor up, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t retain some movers… Really.
Smart move, bad timing. Sounds a lot like life.
I was renovating my house while on four hours of bedrest a day. Nothing was completed until the day before I brought the babies home from the NICU. It worked out in the end and I’m glad we did it because we certainly wouldn’t have on no sleep with newborns in the house. I say go for it. Plus, it will get your mind off of things.
Sounds fantastic. A nice new and remodeled apartment for a new fresh start? Wonderful. Of course this is coming from the person who has been referred to as nomadic and has around 30 moves since graduation 20 years ago under her belt. Still it sounds wonderful.
Oh, like a Fox for sure!
Good Luck! So glad that Simone is kicking baby booty! It’s awesome to hear you talk of bringing her home!!
Wow, I sure wish my landlord would renovate this place I have lived in for 10 years! He won’t even clean the rug or paint the walls! You guys are lucky! I would much rather live on the top floor of an apartment than underneath someone, for just that reason! Hopefully all you’ll have overhead now is the rain on your roof, and that is a soothing sound.
What a nice homecoming that will be for Simone. A nice, clean, safe place for a sweet little NICU graduate! Best of luck to all 3 of you Flotsam family! ;)
You are foxy.
Go for it Alexa. Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Make sure you restrict your activities to supervising though as you need to keep your strength up for Simone’s Home-coming Celebrations. Reckon you should have just about enough time to get everything ‘shipshape’ before that happens. Enjoy!
Sharon
Sure the process will suck rocks, but OMG renovated! Top floor! As an unhappy first-floor dweller in a two-flat house, I say holy cow soooo worth it.
like a fox, oh yeah!
i think it is a good move- new digs for a new stage in your lives. plus, no risk of clompers or wrasslers.
I think a fresh start is great for emotional healing and mental clarity. Yes it will be hard work, and maybe a little bit stressful, but better this kind of stress than the emotional sink hole you have had to deal with over the last few months. Also I think the nesting instinct peaks around now so this is what you probably NEED to do to feel right…And maybe if you are as lastminute as you claim, perhaps you still have some stuff boxed and not unpacked from the last move! You also know the layout, know the building, know the ropes in a way so it will be no where near so difficult as moving in the last time. In a way it is easier than having to shift things from room to room to make space for Simone, now you can plot out her territory upstairs first rather than getting into a frustrating musical chairs kind of setup.
A fresh start sounds great…but you’ll probably want to double-check that the renovations don’t involve any chemicals that will linger or out-gas (as some flooring/carpeting chemicals do) particularly for Simone’s sake. Sometimes older apartments are cleaner to live and breathe in. We’re moving (twice in the next six months) and having a house built, so we’re dealing with these concerns as we plan.
Hi Alexa!
I love your writing, and I am very happy for you and Simone (and Scott)! I don’t want to rain on your parade-a fresh start sounds perfectly lovely….But do you have it in writing from said landlord that the renovations will be done with enough time left to move and get settled before Simone comes home and new owners for current apartment arrive? Cuz, getting kicked out of your current home while the new one was still in chaos and bringing the bitty one into the midlde of all that would really suck! Good luck on new ventures, new digs, and enjoy the new baby smell! P.S. Your title scared the crap out of me! So glad Simone is improving.
So, is Earl going to do the renovation? Seriously, I’d be a little suspicious of your landlord. He could easily rent the former wrestling apartment to a new tenant just the way it is, so why is he so anxious to get you guys to move up there?
On the subject of shorts, I feel your pain. I am very pale, which is odd since my grandmother was a Micmac Indian and my son has gorgeous olive skin which turns golden brown with the tiniest exposure to sunlight, which is a good thing, because he is a college student who dislikes waking up until the sun has set. I’d suspect vampirism, but he is much too nice to be a vampire.
Anyway, my skin has such startling pallor that I have been turned down as a blood donor on the basis of appearing to have no blood at all. While I will not wear gauchos, I do wear shorts. One summer I was wearing shorts while helping my husband carry a screen door into a hardware store to be repaired. A carload of young men roared by (they may well have been drunken shirtless wrestlers) and one shouted at me, “Get a tan!”
This was followed by troll-like laughter from the guys in the car and snickers from my husband, who is a bit melanin-challenged himself, if the truth be told.
So there you go. You’re not alone.
I think it sounds perfect. It sounds like a great apartment, and moving before the baby comes home is a good idea – you won’t want to move with a baby in tow. You are highly deserving of a fresh start, and you’ll feel so good about bringing your precious gift home to a sparkling new home.
oh, and about the wrestling thing. It’s something that early twenty-something boys do. I don’t know why, but they do. I remember my guy friends in college doing it, and my early 20′s stepsons do it.
One of the many reasons I was terrified of having a boy… they do such strange and unexplainable things.
I think it sounds like a good idea. New clean start, no scary linoleum. No having hoodlums living above you. Win win. Plus it doesn’t hurt to have your mind off the NICU for a few moments plus having to move without hauling her around will be a plus.
This would have been totally different advice if you were moving across town instead of just upstairs. :)
You are brilliant to move before Simone gets home…the logistics become so much more difficult after. Congratulations!
You are completely loopy, of course, but as long as you somehow manage to avoid any culottes there may be hope.
I absolutely HATE moving. But unpacking? I LOVE unpacking. I love the way it allows for supreme (re) organization. Good luck!
It seems like there is never a great time to move. Love the title!
Definitely psychotic like a fox! What a treat to return from vacation to find such happy and exciting news all around. Way to go with the nasal cannula and the over three pounds and the moving to an open crib, Simone!
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