Seven scrunchies, five pens and $1.35*

Bloody hell.  What a whirlwind crazy few days its been.  Sorry it’s been a while since my last blog but, since my last post, I’ve moved house, unpacked my house, rebuilt a built-in wardrobe, been to a fabulous wedding in Miami (that still has me smiling), ridden in a Bentley, gotten sunburnt, peeled, had 2 swimming lessons, put in a new security system in the house, run SIX miles in one go in training on Saturday, been to IKEA, put up curtains, bought a fire pit from Lowes and had to figure out new cat-sitters, drycleaners and doctors (in priority order).  AND continued to edge ever closer to my $3500 target…. So it’s been a bit busy. 

First up, the move.

As you already know, I decided to eschew the leafy tranquility of life in the burbs and head back into the city.  The plan is to rent for a year first, check out the various neighborhoods, then sell my place in San Francisco to some entrepreneur tecchie millionaire and buy a multi-unit building here.  Live in the top one, rent out the bottom unit.  Or use it to store shoes.  I’ve not decided yet.  Anyway, I’ve now moved into my new place in Wicker Park in Chicago – and I think I’m going to be very happy there.  Its got a very comfy feeling to it so, though I’ve been in just over a week, its already starting to feel like home.  One of my criteria for how home-y a place feels is to imagine it at Christmas time – and bizarrely enough, I just bought a gently-used Christmas tree from a Brit I met through the Brits in Chicago Facebook page who is moving back to the UK, so is clearing stuff out before the move.  $50 for a John Lewis Xmas tree, complete with lights and absolutely no spiders or critters.  Mumsie, I finally listened….

The move itself was pretty painless – the moving crew were on time and didn’t break anything, so like my criteria for answering the question “Did you have a good flight?” (“yes - it didn’t crash”), it was a successful move.   The only thing that got broken was my new glass teapot that I dropped as I was unwrapping it – as expected, it just exploded into a thousand little shards all over the kitchen.  It was very sad.  Anyway, the movers arrived on Thursday at 9am to finish up the packing (I’d left them the kitchen to pack up cos I’m nice like that) and to load up the truck, then they were scheduled to arrive at 8am Friday morning for the delivery. 

I stayed out of the way while they did their thing.  Is it me or does it always feel a bit awkward when the movers are in?  You’re not sure whether to hang around in case they need you or to scarper and keep out of the way.  So I opted for the middle ground and, after popping out for brunch and to run a couple of errands, spent most of the time shut in one of the walk-in wardrobes with the cats, making sure they weren’t going completely bonkers.  Not sure what the movers made of it – I was probably reinforcing several cat lady stereotypes but whatever.  Dylan (or Horrorcow as I’ve now come to think of him) was the one going nuts trying to scratch at the door to escape (I’d already had to re-situate them from the laundry room as they managed to break out from there) whereas Izzie (aka Toothless) was far more sanguine.  Well, at least he was until it was time to drive into Chicago and drop them both off at the kitty spa, then he decides to freak out about halfway through the 30min drive, get all anxious and end up puking up in the cat carrier.  Mmm-MMM-mmmm – that certainly made for a wonderfully aromatic rest of trip.  Thanks, Izzie. 

 Its an interesting social dynamic where these total strangers are in your (soon-to-be-ex) house, in your drawers (oo-err) and handling your stuff.  I know it’s their job but I always feel ridiculously self-conscious about the amount of stuff I own and that they have to cart out to the truck so, invariably, at some point during the move, find myself apologizing for it.  (it’s the same when I go to a new hairdresser and find myself apologizing for the thickness and sheer amount of hair I have.  Crazy.  I guess you can take the girl out of the UK but you can’t (completely) take the Brit out of the girl).    Anyway, unlike last time where my British aversion to “causing a fuss” translated into heavy overtipping through guilt, this time I managed to reel it in, so tipped in a much more appropriate manner.  I guess after 12yrs of living in the US, I’m finally learning.

So, I’m in.  And, to prove it, I have lots of shiny new keys on my keyfob.  Two gold ones, two silver ones and two with the Chicago Bears logo on them.  I haven’t yet had time to mark them up with nail polish or a Sharpie, so its quite a production every time I need to open the front door, garage door or front gate as I work my way through every single one.  Why is it that it is ALWAYS the last one you try, irrespective of which one you choose to start with?  I think I’ve narrowed down the garage door key to being one of the silver ones, so that’s progress, I guess. 

It’s a similar production with figuring out the light switches.  I guess you go through this learning curve every time you move into a new place, but I think you just tend to forget (a bit like childbirth, I guess).  You click clack click all of them until you finally figure out which one turns on the light you are aiming for.  Then, despite your best efforts to commit the correct one to memory, you instantly forget which one did what the instant your finger leaves the switch.   Maybe its because they all look identical, your brain just gives up before it even starts, thinking “bugger this for a lark”.   I think its because there are obviously some light switches that are blatant decoys and seem to do absolutely nothing at all.  There are 4 light switches in the bathroom and I have not idea what all of them do yet.  Bizarrely, one of them is for a spot light in the ceiling which is a dim, dark-room style red.  I guess it’s for taking your romantic candle-lit bubble baths to the next level.  Seems a little kinky though.  It’s too tall to reach without the use of a ladder, so I guess its there to stay for now (damn). 

Then there are the things you only notice after you’ve moved in.  For, example, I only just noticed that my bathtub has jets in it (no, not those sorts of jets) so lots of foamy bathtime fun awaits!  (OK, maybe there’s a common theme starting to emerge here?).  Also, as I sit and write this in my new upstairs lounge (yes, I have a “downstairs” lounge now – oooohhh, fancy!), I’ve just noticed there is a double plug socket halfway up the wall.  Umm… why?  Actually, I’ve also now just noticed some rather inexpertly done patching near said sockets, so perhaps its for a TV?  Anyway, I’ve also just noticed (probably rather belatedly, I guess), that I’m no longer living in a curated, doormanned and staffed condo building and so have to think about such logistics as parcel delivery and home security.  Its actually the first time since I moved to the States that I don’t live in a doorman building and, while I am LOVING the extra space, I know the parcel thing is going to be a bit of a pain in the arse.  Fortunately I can get parcels delivered to the office (my replacement teapot should be winging its way to me as we speak), so I’m sure I’ll cope – but this is part of the year-long experiment to help me figure out what’s important to me vs what I’ll trade off.   I’ve figured out a dry-cleaning alternative (there’s a drop-off at the office for a local cleaner) and I’ll buy a few key pieces of workout equipment to get a home gym set up (I’m missing that and my training sessions already). 

So, that’s been all-consuming for the last 10 days or so – but I’m finally emerging out of the other end of it.  I’m in the Picture Hanging Stage, soon to be followed by the Patio Plant Selection Phase – both delightful markers that the pain and confusion of moving are coming to an end.  And, as soon as those two tasks are complete, I’ll take some piccies and post them up for you.  And yes – visitors welcome! (except for 3 weeks in August – those are already booked up! Yey!)

Anyway, FINALLY, before I turn in for the evening – an update on the fundraising and training for my half marathon.  Well, Daniel, I’m still in the safe zone for now as the total stands at….. DRUM ROLL, PLEASE…. $3,253.21!!  So, less than $250 to go before I hit my goal.  Donations have slowed a lot, as most people have already donated early but, if you haven’t yet donated, there’s still time!  Here’s the link to my donation website, so anything you can contribute, I would be very grateful.   http://online.ccfa.org/goto/Sholloway

I'm certainly putting in the miles to earn your money - this Saturday just gone, I did my longest run EVER with a total of SIX (count 'em!) miles!!  That's twice the distance I've ever run before!! (makes the 5K's seem like warm-ups!).   This sh*t's getting real!!  This Saturday coming, I have to run SEVEN miles!!!  Arrgghhh!!!!  Cue total, abject fear and panic!  The only thing that makes it worthwhile this time is that I then get to go and eat dessert and drink champagne with Chappers at DessertFest for 3 hours.   Bonza.

At the time of writing, the forfeit for my reaching the $3500 is still not yet decided.  As I am NOT doing the underwear in public dance forfeit so helpfully suggested by Daniel, I am still canvassing for other suggestions.  I know from the P of Double D experience from a couple of years ago that you evil-minded lot can come up with lots of creative ideas – I’ve also told Mumsie that, unless she (or anyone else) comes up with a better idea, then I’ll be throwing myself out of an airplane for a tandem sky-diving challenge.  She’d really rather I didn’t do that, so come on blogwatchers, get yer thinking caps on!

Right, that’s it for now – more to follow soon!!

* is what I found under my couch on moving day. I blame the boys.....