My concept of time has really gone askew during Covid, but now I’m even more thrown off. Has it been two weeks since we moved into this house? Two months? Even longer? Alan and I have said a lot lately that it somehow feels like we’ve always lived here. Despite the initial mountain of boxes to sort through, not knowing where the grocery store is, and trying to find the source of that annoying beeping sound somewhere in the house, we’ve been blissfully proprietary of this place. But let me back up and start with Moving Day 2 weeks ago.

In case you don’t follow me on Instagram or fall under my text-when-crazy-shit-happens list, you may not know just how insane our moving day was. First thing in the morning, when we took Sadie out for her walk and to drop the few final boxes off at my car, I saw something that struck me dumb on the spot. My cherished car which I’ve had for only 4 months was jacked up on cinder blocks and missing all 4 wheels. Right in front of our apartment.

We often bragged that we lived on one of the safest streets in Brooklyn. Most of our neighbors grew up there and knew each other and every bit of daily gossip that went down through word of mouth or their security cameras. Yet no one heard anything, saw anything, but they all gathered on the street that morning to shake their heads and offer their sympathies. And once they heard it was also our moving day, they rallied behind us, directing the moving truck and wishing us godspeed. Our local mechanic, Mario Salerno, who’s also somewhat of a celebrity (you can read the NYT love letter here), said it would take about 2 weeks to assess and fix my car. He assured us that he’d inspect every inch and give us back a car as good as new. And then, not only did he come to us with the tires needed to tow us to his shop (since AAA wouldn’t), he sent his son and employee to Enterprise to personally arrange a rental car for us. When we wondered if there was a larger model available (seeing as it was moving day and more space is always needed at the last minute), he waited there for a minivan that was scheduled to be returned that morning. And then he delivered it right to our door! All we had to do was oversee the movers who had since arrived, wrangle Sadie, and deal with the police officers and the car insurance company. Moving day bliss. I joke, but in all honesty this was in some ways the perfect sendoff from our Brooklyn chapter. There was the aggressive grand larceny that showed us that maybe it was time to get out of town. The neighbors who’d known us for just 2 years but had adopted us into their clique. And the superhero mechanic who’d seen it all and knew just how to save us when we needed it most. (He’d also given Alan a hoodie sporting the garage logo a few weeks earlier for him to wear on his jogs past the shop each morning. He still proudly wears it around our house here upstate.) It was, as Alan said, like a season finale where all the players made an appearance and waved at the moving truck as it pulled away.

After that drama, the move went almost as smoothly as possible. (I guess we got all the moving day chaos out in one go?) Our first night here, a Monday, was snowy and quiet and pretty still. The movers wouldn’t come until Tuesday morning with all our furniture, so we slept on the air mattress again and played Hunt A Killer- a six episode subscription game that tasks you to solve a crime. Without our pots or utensils, we ordered takeout. We chatted about where each piece of furniture would go, and I walked around sticking post its on the walls to help the movers find their way. I made multiple trips to Target in my minivan (OMG who have I become), to get things like waste baskets for the expanded number of rooms we had and drawer liners for the kitchen cabinets. We also measured the kitchen drawer pulls and I spent hours on Etsy searching for the perfect replacement to the brushed nickel ones that don’t really do it for me. I chose these instead…

The movers were rockstars. Aside from not actually wearing their masks as anything other than chin decorations, they could not have been better. They were focused, upbeat, and friendly. And I’m not going to lie, it made me surprisingly proud when they showed up and wandered around the property with their mouths open saying, “This is all yours?” Actually, I still couldn’t believe it myself! Once they left and we were suddenly drowning in boxes, I was like a woman possessed. I couldn’t stop unpacking. The first few nights we ordered takeout, so I didn’t even have to stop to prep and cook dinner. I’d like to say I fell into bed exhausted every night but sleep was eluding me. There were no curtains on our bedroom windows and the moonlight was so bright. Sadie was beyond excited and barked through the night to be allowed outside to explore again. And what was that beeping…?

We set ourselves the task of getting the kitchen situated first. Not only was it a room we’d be using a lot, it was smack in the middle of the house. So, no avoiding it. And it also had the most boxes by far. (How??) The previous owners had installed built-in shelves just outside the kitchen door in the modern extension. When I’d first looked at the house I assumed we’d use them for books. Between Alan and me we have roughly 1,000,000. (Ok, they’re mostly Alan’s. But my multiple boxes seemed to be made up of skin care products and knitting supplies so I refrain from nagging him about it.) But these built-ins were brilliant! Since I love to cook and entertain, we’ve amassed a collection of cookware and serving platters that’s worthy of a house. And amazingly, everything has found its place. Not stacked precariously on top of each other as they were in Brooklyn, where we’d have to fight and tug and get a spotter so we wouldn’t fall down while standing or kneeling on the kitchen counter. Not for the first time during these two weeks, I ask myself, is this how the average American lives?

I don’t know what I’m rushing for, since we can’t really have guests soon anyway. At least not without a lot of quarantining and planning. But I’ve been doggedly, obsessively, sleeplessly trying to complete the house, room by room. (I smell the whiff of being in love.) Alan’s office was a priority, since he had to start work a week after we took residence. Maybe because he’s not as OCD as I am, he got that done himself within 24 hours. The master bedroom was done quickly as well- our Brooklyn furniture juuuuuust fitting into the eaves under the ceiling. And once I got temporary blackout curtains from Target (they’re not great but not awful), we were both able to actually sleep. Hallelujah! It probably also helped that I decided to do a dry January. Between Covid, moving, tire theft, and acclimating to a new area, there was enough resistance to a good night’s sleep.

Next came the living room. I’ve always thought that each home is a puzzle and needs just the right configuration to make it click. While the kitchen, Alan’s office, and our bedroom were pretty self-explanatory, the living room was just not working. As amazing as our movers had been, they couldn’t fit our enormous mid-century sofa through the antique doors. Which meant the living room was oddly bare. Of course, we had the gorgeous mahogany sleigh chair and ottoman that I’d found on Craigslist a few months earlier, but without any other seating it wouldn’t be a room we’d want to spend much time in. I hopped back onto Craigslist up here to see what was available locally and found… a pair of vintage rockers in perfect condition and in the same shade of wood as the sleigh chair! Jackpot! The owners lived a few towns away and would sell them to us that night for just $120 total. Let me pause and say again how much I appreciate being married to Alan. All the time, but then at specific moments like this. He was so game to hop into the car (sorry: minivan), the second his workday ended to drive an hour and load up furniture he’d barely seen. And then when it was situated in the space, he repeatedly escorted me back into the room to show off my work that he was so proud of. This was one of those times when I’m struck by how my life has expanded- both by being married to him but also by allowing myself to see beyond the defining boundaries of my career. Designing a home is so deeply exciting and gratifying to me. And I just love when someone else sees what I see. Now we just need to all get vaccinated already so we can have a party!

I’m also learning to use my actor-trained voice here lol. More often than not, Alan and I are in a different room or on a different floor from each other and have to really project to be heard. (No, we’ve not yet resorted to texting each other. Well, only a couple times.) Sadie is also very quickly adapting to the amount of space. The antique windows are placed low on the wall, so she’s able to see outside in whatever room she’s in. (Though this also means she’s taunted by all the things she’s dying to smell and chase.) Alan and I decided to keep her to the first floor, so that it will be easier on my sinuses and time-management with a cleaner upstairs. She doesn’t seem to mind, as the first floor is as much space as our apartment was anyway! (More?) We’re also in the process of getting an invisible fence installed so that she really can run free through the backyard. But safely.

And speaking of fencing, Alan and I are dipping our toes into the world of goat husbandry. We’re still at the research phase and are learning just how much we don’t know (but also some wild and fascinating facts like: male goats like to pee in their own mouths. And goat manure is very nutrient-rich and can be sold if not used on your own farm.) It’s still early in the winter and we have a lot to do before bringing in our own herd, but it’s now officially on the table. Being up here and seeing the layout with goats in mind has sealed the deal. We are getting goats. It does beg the question, what will we do if we have to leave town for a few days or want to take a vacation? I’m hoping we can find a farmers’ collective up here where we can all pitch in with each others’ animals. Or maybe some of our friends want a break from city life and have always wanted to try their hand at milking goats…

It’s a funny thing to move into a house that someone else has lived in. Unlike an apartment which often has the feeling of being just a temporary space, a house absorbs things. Energy, yes, but also detritus and clues from the former owner’s life. There was a strange intimacy to finding an old dry cleaning hanger and receipt in the guest room closet and the can of cat food that had wedged behind one of the kitchen drawers. (Also, maybe this explained why I sneezed so much in those first few days.) I’ve tried in these past few weeks to embrace what this house has already been and inherit as much as I can of what it’s evolved to be. I might at first be tempted to pull down every curtain rod to let in the light, only to find later that curtains are just what that room needed. And maybe the cat was to keep the mice at bay, since I’m seeing some signs of them here and there. We’re two weeks in and there’s so much to learn. So I’m trying to be patient and listen.