Sunday, 16 September 2012

Tropical Iceland

Hot/Cold Cufflinks, 3

I think I can confidently claim the move back to our house was easier than the move out of the same house during early February. I can cite two reasons for that: first, we didn't have the threat of a bobcat paying our house a visit and putting us under unexpected pressure to leave our current residence with urgency. Second, this time around I had Spotify with me everywhere to keep me entertained. Oh, and the fact we were never without ADSL Internet sure helped, too.
Not that the move has concluded. It will take us a long while till we unpack it all, and even before we do that it is very clear we won't feel truly at home until some changes are made. I'll put it this way: when I'm typing this post on an inflatable bed in the middle of our living room, one can sense the need for a sofa. I guess that's the punishment for moving to live at a bigger house. And bigger it is, so much so that it's hard to tell what the other residents are up to.
Another way in which the whole affair is obviously incomplete is to do with us identifying further faults left behind by the builder.  These are annoying because they're not really faults: they're mostly cases of damage to the existing parts of the house. Damage that the builder obviously knew about but chose not to tell us (e.g., damage to the roof of one of our garden sheds). Or damage he half arsed-ly took care of, like that pavers he broke during his work and replaced at our request towords the end, only for us to see them broken again already; obviously, he didn't bother laying them down properly. The story of us chasing after the builder seems to therefore continue, and I wouldn't be surprised if the final scenes will take place in court.
Don't get me wrong, the house is nice. It's nice to live in a house that's designed to be lived in, as opposed to the rental place we spent the last seven months at - a house that's designed to look good, but once in it becomes obvious looks can be deceiving. That said, our new house is more like two: you step in to Iceland, a land of cold where heating is needed to sustain body and soul; once climbing the stairs to the upper floor, you are welcomed to the Tropics. Up in Tropical Land you can undress yourself to your boxer shorts (female readers: the choice of clothing is entirely yours to make) and feel fine and dandy. Obviously, I'm exaggerating; yet it is definitely a case of each floor feeling like it has its own unique climate.
Feel wise, the upper story with its newish design feels much "cooler". It's like a studio apartment up here - I like it! We just need to see what it would be like when summer hits the town. In the mean time we're getting ourselves acclimatized: Mass Effect-ability has been achieved last night, with full blown [glorious] surround sound acquired today.


Image by the justified sinner, Creative Commons license

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