go.

moving made great strides today, with almost all major furniture items (and everything that's mine) entering the house in the afternoon. no freaking out on my part. our new kitchen table is the one that sat in my parents' kitchen for most of my life, before they remodeled it, and the memories flow on. it also doesn't help that when i came by at 6:30 this morning to start moving things over, the salt air and musk of the empty place reminded me of our old cottage on the cape, since sold. my father thought so too, and he used to go there every summer.

it's typical, a 1950's family who got a little something in postwar america, thinking they owned the world, or at least the world owed them. so they grabbed up whatever luxuries they could. it's not that we don't do the same now, but placing the phenomenon so long ago with the dead makes categorisation and judgement all the easier. laura and i have our spot of comparative luxury, and the first thing we notice this night, aside from the charmingly slanted floors, is how much better this bedroom is than geneva street, or my old place before it: no noisy street, no abused dog barking next door, air conditioning. we put up the great wave off kanagawa over the bed, which i've always wanted in a bedroom, and laura says the colours match up fine.

i'm particularly fascinated by my small brookstone white noise machine. i originally found this thing in my grandmother's house after she died-- my father said i could keep it. i used it in high school, keeping it next to my bed on the stream setting and imagining i was on a boat on some bubbling river somewhere, soothed by the sounds of the water and liberated from adolescent cares. silly now, i know, but it can be relaxing. i like the look of its grey against the deep brown wood of the table, so i left it out there. it'll need new batteries.

there's an unsecured wireless network in the neighbourhood. we've become comfortable very quickly.