Boxes have been emptied and deposited into the recycle bin, floors have been swept, walls washed, mirrors polished...which can mean nothing other than -- we're home!
The counter tops have not yet been installed, which means we are also missing our sinks and we must wash the dishes in the bathtub (very practical, indeed) and Vogica still has not come through with the drawer pulls or the baseboards but we used the oven for the first time last night and it is like driving a Ferrari compared to our former oven.
We left our old rented apartment without remorse, except perhaps for the lovely, spacious balcony which looked out onto a tree and flower-filled courtyard and the well-stocked Monoprix grocery store down the street. Nevertheless, I was happy to leave behind my piano-playing upstairs neighbor, the homeless guy who had colonized the sidewalk next to the Franprix (he had amassed so much stuff that a visitor to the apartment asked us "what's up with the brocante at the beginning of the street?"), the neighbor who stole my bike from the interior courtyard of our building, and the endless piles of merde and other trash on the sidewalk.
Our new home is just so great (*sighs*). We live on a tree-lined, albeit noisy boulevard, the metro station is sparkling clean, and the shops, restaurants and bars of the rue Oberkampf are in walking distance, including a fantastic bookstore and a heavenly flower shop.
Moving into a new place is not only having a new space of your own, but it means a different trajet to work in the morning, new smells (I could do without the smell of my neighbor's wet dog in the hallway, however), and new sounds - the avenue, the pitter patter of my upstairs neighbor on the hardwood floors, and even the rain sounds different here - it makes little bingy-plingy sounds as it bounces off our 150-year old window panes.
brocante (f): a second-hand store for furniture and knick-knacks
merde (f): literally, shit
trajet (m): route, as in my route to work