A new job for real, and another new car!

Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone! I made a lovely intimate dinner last night, and while the pie was a failure (don't put blackstrap molasses and dark corn syrup into the same pecan pie), the rest of it was delish.

But I know you don't want to hear about that. You want to hear about the new job! Well, a couple of weeks ago, MIT informed me that they were opening my position up to other applicants. Which, as you might imagine, distressed me. I was temp-to-perm, but I was assured at the beginning that was "merely a formality." So the fact that I was going to have to apply for my own job, again, did not give me a warm fuzzy feeling about my job security.

Fortunately, a microchip company that I'd interviewed with weeks ago came to the rescue. They called me back in for a final round of interviews, and on Wednesday, offered me the job! So: a real job (not temping), making more money, with great benefits, and I'd get paid vacation for Christmas (instead of unpaid, since I was hourly at MIT). Plus the company is in the next town over, meaning my commute would shrink to 5 miles.

The downside? We'd have to buy another car.

While there's a wealth of public transportation options into Boston, there are none--NONE--between suburbs around Boston. Not even a bus. And while I could bike 5 miles in the summer, I certainly can't in the winter. So, I crunched the numbers. And while I hate having to spend the money on a second car, at least we can technically afford it (though I'd much rather be able to walk, and spend all that money on something more useful).

Well, you know my feelings about the 'burbs. I'll spare you the rant about lack of public transportation options that my husband got. We went car shopping yesterday, and came home with a new Prius. At 51 mpg, my hubby will be taking the Prius on his long commute, and I'll use our current car for the 5 mile-commute. Meaning our gas bill will stay about the same, even with an additional car.

It's a lot zippier than I thought it would be. And very space-age. And you can actually fit four full-size adults in it. We may actually take it on our long-haul Christmas travels this year, to save on gas. When we pick it up on Tuesday, I'll post pictures. And I'm hoping to start the new job in a week or so; I'll keep you updated on that, as well.

Otherwise: finishing up Christmas shopping, and eagerly awaiting the arrival of my parents, with more furniture, in a couple of weeks.

Almost Thanksgiving, with no travel plans

This will be the first Thanksgiving in at least...four years that I didn't have hot and exciting travel plans. Last year, it was Joshua Tree/Yosemite/Big Sur. Year before that, Buenos Aires. Year before that, Rome. This year, we were originally planning to visit my sister in New Orleans. But due to move/new house/new jobs/not enough money or vacation time to make it happen, well, we'll have to wait until Christmas to see my new niece.

I'm definitely sad we won't be seeing my sister, and a little sad we won't be travelling anywhere, thereby breaking my streak. I will admit I'm looking forward to a long weekend. I'd be looking forward to it a lot more, if I were actually getting paid for it. The downside of highly paid-hourly temp work is unpaid holidays.

We've finished cleaning up the yard, and the house is in at least passable shape at this point. We put up the Christmas tree this weekend (my very first adult Christmas tree!!!!) and lit a (rather smoky) fire in our new fireplace. I'm pulling together an intimate Thanksgiving menu for two that we'll probably have on Friday, as we've been invited to a work thing/party on Thursday. Details later.

Coda: Anxiety dream

Last night I dreamed that my husband came to me and told me that he'd just accepted a new job in Washington, DC and we had two weeks to move. All I could think of to say was, "Well, at least we didn't throw out all the moving boxes."

Yardwork

DH and I spent most of the weekend tackling the yard; a formidable task, given that DH blew out his back and had to be medicated to the hilt on Vicodin just to get out of bed. I suspect the lack of exercise since moving, coupled with the stress and heavy lifting of moving, are to blame. I’m hoping to get him out of the house and walking around a bit more in order to alleviate some of the pain.

But we managed to clear the foot and a half of dead leaves out of the front yard, anyway. I left the backyard for next weekend. First was the trip to Lowe’s to purchase a rake, a shovel, a snow shovel, an ax, you know, standard home implements. DH raked the front yard while I picked through all the deadwood in the yard for usable kindling/firewood. We then scrounged an old tarp, loaded all the piles of leaves onto it, one by one, and dragged it to the back corner of the yard and dumped it. The leaf dumps will become compost piles. It was surprisingly physical work. Wouldn’t our parents be proud? Look at us, voluntarily doing yard work.

While dumping leaves, I discovered an old grill, haphazardly covered, by a locked storage shed. (The storage shed houses the landlord’s crap, and we were told in no uncertain terms to leave it alone. “Crap” being the operative word—there are stacks of boards, bricks, flagstones, old buckets, what I suspect was once a volleyball net, and various other detritus scattered around the yard. I’ve been attempting to pull all that stuff behind the storage shed, so I don’t have to look at it all winter.) The grill was in pretty bad shape—the bottom rack was half-rotted out, the casing was pitted with rust, and there was a propane tank hooked up to it, though I have no idea how full it might be. Nevertheless, I immediately thought, “Hey, maybe we could clean this up and use it!”

Until I opened it, to discover 1. A mouse. 2. A mouse nest. 3. Calcified charcoal, housing both a mouse and a mouse nest. I slammed the lid, jumped back, and made DH poke the mouse nest with a stick until the mouse dropped out of the grill and ran away. Where’s a cat when you need one?

Of course, then I was paranoid all the rest of the day, and kept picturing homeless mice running out of the piles of leaves everywhere.

But we have a clear front yard, new fireplace implements, enough scrap wood for at least a couple of good-sized fires, and a newly restocked pantry. So I’ll call that a productive weekend.

The house is clean!

I had yesterday off, so I spent the day giving the house a mega-deep-clean. I scrubbed down the walls, the radiators, the cabinets, the doorknobs and doorframes, cleaned all the windows and windowsills, mopped all the floors, and finished by scouring the backyard for usable kindling (of which there was plenty).

I can't even tell you how disgusting it was--apparently no one ever thought to wash down the walls. There was dark chunky stuff embedded in the paint near the toilets. I refuse to speculate on what that was. I poured out at least twelve buckets of black mop water, swept down at least twenty cobwebs, and went through most of a can of Comet and three sponges. I also rearranged some furniture and hung some pictures (strategically, in some cases, to cover holes/marks on the walls).

Now I'm tired. If my landlord ever decides he's going to try to raise my rent, I'm referring him directly to this post.

But we also have a whole bunch of kindling, in the form of fallen twigs and tree branches. One of the advantages of living in the 'burbs, I guess. This weekend we'll need to rake up the foot and a half of fallen leaves covering the yard, and get a compost pile going.

Fish and sunlight

One of the things I really liked about Southern California, apart from the weather, was the light. Even during the winter (“winter”), there were easily 10 or 11 hours of daylight.


Now, it’s full dark at 5 pm here.

No thanks to Daylight Savings Time, I know. In another month, it’ll be full dark at 4:30. Which means it’ll be dark when I leave for work, and dark when I get home, and I’ll never actually see outdoor daylight. Which means the sun streaks in my hair and my tan (“tan”) will disappear, means I’ll get fat and pasty because I’ll be indoors all the time, and means I’ll die of a vitamin D deficiency.

The good news is that I found a fish CSA! Remember the CSA I joined in San Diego, wherein I got a big box of fresh, locally grown fruits and vegetables every two weeks? They have one of those here, for fresh fish! They also have one for winter vegetables, which I joined. I’m sure I’ll be up to my eyeballs in cabbages and parsnips soon; I hope they throw some greenery in there periodically. I was mourning the loss of fresh citrus fruit the other day (I bought some oranges here and they were DREADFUL—dry, tasteless, they barely qualified as oranges. The oranges I got in SD were more liquid than solid. Sigh.), but I suppose lots of fresh fish is a decent trade-off.

Birthday celebrations much better than actual birthday

I spent Saturday evening in Brooklyn, revisiting all (well, many) of my old haunts and seeing old friends. I also got to meet my husband's cousin, whom he hadn't seen in 20 years. It was great to get away and think about something other than home decor/renovations for a while.

We've gotten the two major furniture needs taken care of (desk and bookshelves); I'm attempting to bribe my parents into bringing up my grandmother's dining room table for Thanksgiving. After that, the rest of the furniture needs will have to wait until after Christmas. So if anyone has any furniture they need to get rid of...

Winter clothes will have to take priority in terms of purchasing power, as well. And then Christmas presents. And then Christmas transportation. At some point we'll have to buy firewood and fireplace tools so we can actually use our fireplace.

Whew, I'm getting tired thinking about it all. Just my luck our move would have to butt right into the holidays. I don't recommend it.

It's my birthday.

It's been a craptacular one so far. It's raining, my train was half an hour late this morning, and I got a bunch of legalistic runaround at work when I attempted to work through lunch rather than work late half an hour. So LEGALLY I have to take thirty minutes EVERY DAY. Yeah. Thanks. Guess I'm getting home late tonight.

In no particular order:


1. It always rains on my birthday. Why? The only time it has ever NOT rained on my birthday was last year, when I was in San Diego. Sigh.

Also, today I got an email announcing that the Old Globe Theatre in San Diego has an opening for a new Literary Manager, MY DREAM JOB. IN SAN DIEGO. RIGHT AFTER I LEAVE SAN DIEGO. To which my response was, in order: MOTHERFUCKER. And then: Really, God? On my birthday? Really?

2. Everyone seems to be an important number this year. I’m 35, my dad is 60, my brother is 30, my best friend is 40, and my husband is 42 (which we all know is the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything). I’m not sure how to feel about that. I texted a bit with Pockets yesterday, getting the dish from her brother’s 20th high school reunion. There was surprisingly little. I’m not sure how to feel about that, either.

3. But at least I’m not where I was when I celebrated my 30th. Physically AND metaphysically.

4. I’m going to New York this weekend to see my friends, and thank God for that. I’m maxed out on household matters right now. If I have to have another thought about bathtub stoppers or curtains or furniture or whether to leave the doors open or closed on the rooms we’re not using in order to maximize heating efficiency, I may scream. And I’ve been really irritable lately—the stress of simultaneously moving and starting a new job is not becoming. I could use a day away, even though there’s still so much to do.

5. Today didn't help that.

I want to fast-forward 36 hours or so, where I'm having dinner with good friends, having a few very strong drinks, and not thinking about work, commuting, the house, the weather, or any of the other 900 million things pissing me off right now.

Actually, I'll take fast-forwarding about 6 hours, when (hopefully) I'll be cuddling with my hubby. That'll work, too.

I can has interwebs?

Pardon my disappearance from the blogosphere—we’ve been busy moving into OUR NEW HOUSE, which until today did not have internet, as we had to wait on the stupid Verizon cable guy to come hook it up. Also I started my new job at MIT. Here are the salient points:


1. The house (which we’re renting) was clearly designed by a retarded person on crack. No offense to the mentally disabled, as I think they’re still smarter than whoever was in charge of constructing this house. The kitchen cabinets and closets were never finished (it’s bare plywood on the inside, and let’s not even discuss the closet doors), the dropped ceilings downstairs are too low, the vent fan over the stove hits at neck height, there are at least two extra doors to the garage that have no reason for existence, and the bathtub was never glazed (it’s ROUGH. Whoever heard of a rough bathtub?). And there’s a window in the shower—with a wooden sash. Which is already half-rotted. Nice work, genius.

Plus, the last tenants apparently never cleaned. The kitchen cabinets are all sticky. Really, really sticky. Ewwwwwwww. No one ever bothered to scrape off the price tags on the light fixtures, there were layers and layers of (uncleaned) contact paper stuck onto the unfinished plywood cabinets, the windowsills are filled with some unidentifiable sticky black gunk, and there was AN OLD USED CONDOM on the top bathroom shelf. Who throws their used condom onto the top shelf of the bathroom instead of, say, in the trash can? AND THEN LEAVES IT THERE?

And there was a dead mouse in the toilet on the day we moved in.

And the curtains are god-awful.

2. However, with a good cleaning, new contact paper, new light fixtures, new curtains and curtain rods, and strategically placed furniture/artwork (to hide the 1973 décor), I shall almost succeed in making the place liveable. If I can get over the trauma of accidentally touching the old used condom.

3. Our conversations are now things like, “What do you think of a big paper lantern to cover up this chandelier?” and “What sort of desks should we get?” But that’s a vast improvement over “Where the *%&$^ is the _____?” (insert common household object here). The decorating/furniture acquisition portion will take a while, but the unpacking part is 75% done at this point. So that’s definite progress.

4. Working at MIT is really cool. I like working in academia a hell of a lot more than working in finance, and it’s MIT, which is cooler than working at, say, a community college. Let me tell you, there is some serious nerditry on this campus. There are industrial-sized vats of liquid nitrogen in the hallways. Some of the labs have armed guards and eye-scan security systems outside. There are literal rocket scientists. There is a department of Planetary Science, in which one of the required classes is Molecular Biogeochemistry. And my MIT ID gets me into the library. Oh yes. You may touch me now.

5. The commute’s a bitch, though. I’m now a slave to the train schedule, which means I have no life outside of work and my house. Especially this time of year—even if I take the early train home, it’s still full dark by the time I hit the train station, which mean a mile-and-a-half walk home through dark suburbs and crunchy leaves and 45-degree wind. DH has been dropping me off at the train station in the morning; soon we will have to work out a system to pick me up at night, as well. The upside is that I don’t have to drive an hour each way on I-95 to get to work, like he does. Once his company moves to Providence, his commute will drop back to 20 minutes (still on I-95, though).

That walk will be nice in the spring and summer, though.

And boy, it’s the ‘burbs. We’re right next door to the country club. But at least there are sidewalks all the way to the train station.

6. My Thanksgiving plans are getting all screwy. I was hoping to go visit my sister in Gulfport, but I’m not sure that will be possible now. Stay tuned.

7. I’m going into New York this weekend to celebrate my birthday. It’s a fairly significant one, and even though I should really be spending my time/money on all things house-related, I can’t talk myself into spending my birthday unpacking and mopping. I’d much rather spend it with my friends.

8. That means my birthday is this weekend. Feel free to send presents.