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I am suffering from internet withdrawal.  I don’t have internet access set up at my new place, though that’s high on the list of Things To Take Care Of As Soon As I Have The Money.  My sisters, who live two doors down from me, have a nice strong wireless network that they’ve generously offered to share, but, alas, my elderly laptop doesn’t receive the signal strongly enough to connect.  Consequently, I’ve been bugging Rosie with requests to use her laptop to jump online for a few minutes, or waiting until I get into work to check my e-mail.  Even though, realistically, there is little so urgent online that it can’t wait a few hours or a day for me to see it, after being used to being online all the time at my old place, it feels like torture.  I expect to get the shakes any moment.

Little by little I am settling more into my new place.  Friday night Johnsy and Ani came over with pizza.  They also brought a surprise guest – Baby.  The three of us plus Rosie watched West Wing and Little Miss Sunshine while Baby explored excitedly.  It seems that my new house has many more climbing opportunities, which made Baby very happy.  It was fun showing Ani and Johnsy around the new place: the still-disorganized sewing room/sun room, the kitchen that is a crime against nature (whoever thought of pairing that particular shade of yellow with that specific turquoise ought to be shot), and my cozy room.  It’s the only room in the house with rugs on the floor, which goes a long way towards making it much, much warmer.  I am coming to have a high appreciation for carpets.

All in all, it was a quiet weekend.  Saturday I got a little unpacking done, though not much (I slept late, and ended up sitting by the window with tea and one of Rosie’s romance novels for most of the afternoon).  Saturday evening I went out shopping with Rosie.  Our main purchase was a new set of shelves for the kitchen so I can finally put more of my stuff away.  On Sunday I ended up going to the evening Mass with Rosie and Indy, and then over to the Family Homestead for dinner.  It’s so much easier to get over to my parents house when I only have to walk half a block to get there.  Indy had initially planned to come back to my house afterwards, where she would help me with my unpacking, but instead we all ended up watching the football game (I was very happy the Saints won – there’s just something wrong about the idea of Brett Favre leading the Vikings to a Superbowl).  It’s been a while since I spent so much time just hanging out with my family without it being a special occasion.  It was nice.  I particularly enjoy bugging Boy-O (I figure turn-about is fair play).  He’s more used to sisters who shriek and protest when he teases them, but don’t actualy do anything.  I’m a little more proactive, and I think it startles him.

It’s interesting living in this neighborhood again.  My family moved here when I was five, and I lived here off and on for the next twenty or so years.  It took me a long time to realize that other people thought this was a bad neighborhood, scarey to even drive through, much less live in.  I was more acquainted with the beautiful old houses, full-grown trees, and occasional cobblestone streets with the line of different colored brick down the middle where the trolley-tracks once ran.  It’s easier for me now to see the signs of dilapidation and despair in the peeling paint on the once-proud houses, and the security guards for the nearby hospital that constantly circle the nearby streets.

The difference is also apparent in the way people here aren’t ashamed of scavenging.  Rosie used to have a couch that she had been planning to get rid of for a while.  On my moving day, I got my helpers to move it out to the curb, and had planned to call bulky waste to get rid of it.  However, before I could call, someone had come along and taken it away.  We think it was a family a few blocks away that makes a living off selling scrap metal – the couch was a sleeper couch, so there was a lot of metal inside.  However, they didn’t take the two big cushions.  We left them out for a while, just in case they wanted to come back for them, but then last night we put them out by the trash cans for the garbage men to take.  This morning a man came, and knocked on our door.  He wanted to make sure that we didn’t want the cushions, and that he could have them.  He was a roofer, he said, and could use them.  I have no idea what use a roofer has for cushions (spare foam, maybe?), but we gladly said he could have them.  Better being used for something than ending up in a landfill.

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