Power Tools
It’s been a long-standing tradition that working around the house is a bad idea for me, although usually it’s working with my brother that seems to bring on the physical trauma aspects, probably because we both have operated under the principle that home repair is best conducted with frequent breaks involving refreshing beverages. It appears, however, that whenever I am engaged in the use of tools I am better off hiring someone to do it for me, as my cuts and creaks attest this morning, following four days of moving into and setting up house at Reservoir Street, Surry Hills. Nevertheless, we are already very comfortable and secure in our new home, even if the guest bedroom remains something more along the lines of a workshop at the moment. Plus, the pictures and curtains we hung look very nice. (Thank goodness George was available, as his assistance throughout was invaluable; he’s a stand-up guy, George.) The sofa arrives today, and some bookshelves will be put up next weekend (which gives us the long Anzac-Day break to dust and order the books and records we’ll store thereon). At that point, all will have been completed, by and large. I am amazed by the expanse of this apartment, which exceeds by two bedrooms and many square feet anyplace I’ve lived before, except the Bay Shore house, growing up. It’s embarrassingly huge, almost, but we love every inch of it. The balcony is my favourite part, and a bedroom I don’t have to sidle my way through every morning. Our location in proximity to Central Station is also a big plus, as my commute this morning attests, easily cutting 15-20 minutes off, and offering a brief, brisk walk to open my eyes. Once we get the phone sorted out, and the television reception issues dealt with, there will be nothing left to do except live there, which we plan to do for a very long time indeed.