[At first, I had some introductory text here…about the month of travel to Rotterdam and Paris, and then about how we jumped into the car and drove back down to Nashville. I guess a few weeks off the blogorator has caused me to lose my mojo and delete without noticing….]
By and large, I love the new place. It is a 1920s Victorian, but updated with modern plumbing and HVAC and so forth. I’m on a very quiet street, but very close to highways and major arteries around the city. The little neighborhood is known for its mix of folks, diverse by Nashville’s standard. I’m three blocks from my favorite used bookstore, three blocks from public tennis courts, and three blocks from Bobbies Dairy Dip. I chose the sunniest room for my bedroom to counteract the effects of a year in New York but only can find sheer curtains to cover the massively long windows, so I’m awake in the 5’s. I’m still delighting in central air, my dishwasher and washer-dryer and soon will kill some brain cells with my new microwave oven. Many rice bags will be cooked, I can tell you that.
All in all, I feel like I’ve returned home. There are several highlights to the house, but I suspect the screened porch will be the winner. I have an idea for al fresco poker nights.
My new landlords (who seem to be a new addition to my unbroken line of awesome landlords) tell me that ALL new bath-shower faucets are the same–one knob for volume, one knob to set temperature. This is a radical departure from the two knobs of my youth–one knob for cold, the other for hot water. Thus, if you are working with the old ideas but have the new knobs, you’ll decide there’s only cold water to be had. In a moment of waking sleep I decided this was a metaphor for life.