Moving day is gettin’ close.
I received the keys to my apartment on June 15, and have made several trips to the apartment to get a head start on settling in. Mostly, I brought storage items in order to determine whether I have more purging to do. I’m proud (and a little shocked) to say that the apartment’s three closets will accommodate my storage needs.
A few weeks ago I asked the property manager about replacing the existing kitchen cabinet fronts which had seen better days. I didn’t hold out much hope, but to my delight and surprise she approved the request and the new white thermofoil fronts, with pewter pulls, are being installed this week. My delight was tempered with a bit of concern after I read online that thermofoil cabinetry isn’t heat resistant, and has been known to peel if there isn’t a heat shield installed around hot elements, like a stove or dishwasher. I emailed the property manager about this, and she assured me that she’s never seen this happen and that the “beauty of a rental is that if there’s damage it will be repaired or replaced without cost to you.” Good. I’m keeping that email and holding her to it.
In addition to new kitchen cabinet fronts, I decided I needed a new colour on the walls to replace the sickly yellow ivory. It’s a fairly large space to paint by myself, so I recruited family members to assist. One thing led to another and family members decided that they would hire a professional painter as an apartment-warming gift. Except for the bathroom and bedroom, the entire apartment is now painted in a nice neutral shade, emblematically called Rocky Road. It’s amazing how a nice paint colour can transform a space, particularly an apartment, which otherwise can be fairly boring.
The complex is an interesting mixed bag of residents: seniors and university students. My building is 80% seniors, several of whom I met over the past week. It’s interesting how differently the old and young interact; from the younger residents you get a polite hello, while the senior residents give you their life story in a 30 second elevator ride. (Well, not quite, but they are very chatty.) During one of my trips, I met Catherine, who happens to live down the hall. She told me that no way was she going to live somewhere and not know her neighbours, so she gave me the lowdown on each of them. So now I know that the 90-something-year-old lady who lives on my right is a nice lady who doesn’t get out much but shares her newspaper with everyone, and that the 80-something year old lady who lives on my left is afraid of dogs until she gets to know them. I must have passed muster, because Catherine told me that the ladies will be so happy to hear that they will have a “nice neighbour.” And I think I’ll have nice neighbours too.