Adjusting to living in a house
If you saw my blog post about moving out of my childhood home you’ll know that this house is the second place I’ve ever lived. I am incredibly lucky for that and know that not many people get to do that. I’m also super lucky that I didn’t have to move out a year ago for university, with the perfect one on my doorstep, but now it has happened.
There have been some adjustments I’ve had to make in moving to this house and its resulted in some pretty funny things happening so far and I feel it’s only fair that I share them so you too can laugh at my fuck ups.
The day after we moved in I wanted to have a shower before people came round. I get in, I turn it on and I wait in the cold water before realising that the shower had been turned off. We had discussed the evening before that a few of us had accidentally turned the shower on/off instead of turning the light on/off so i climb out the shower to turn it on in hopes of hot water. Luckily this fixed it but now I know that sometimes when people say the shower is off they mean “the shower still produces water; just not hot water” which I think is strange. Mum also informed me that some people turn their shower off when they aren’t using it and we collectively decided we were all too lazy and forgetful for that to be a thing in our house.
Later that day my Step Dad told me that you have to preheat the oven for at least 20 minutes before you use it (our oven at the flat was great and I am lazy so I NEVER used to preheat it) when he said oven, I assumed only the oven, the next day I waited for half an hour for my crumpets to cook under the grill before realising- you also have to set the temperature and preheat the grill. I am still getting used to this.
At the flat we would dry all our clothes on an airer in the dining room or in the summer in the almost-outdoors-space, the drying room. At the house we have a pretty big garden in which we can now dry our clothes. We don’t have a clothes line yet though so everything is still on airers out there. It’s a few days after we move in and I hung my clothes out outside and everything is fine. I come inside to do some more unpacking and when I go back out to check on my laundry a bird has knocked over the airer (though it is still together just horizontal) and another bird has done a poo on one of my t-shirts. The next week my laundry remains clear of poo and the week after there is poo on my work jeans. One out of three aint bad?
In our flat you had to have your keys to get in and out and lock the door. In the house; you do not. We have one of those regular house doors that locks when it closes. We also have a lock-box next to the front door with a spare key in it, for which I am very thankful as two weeks after we moved in my parents went away and I forgot my keys. We haven’t given anyone a spare key yet other than the cleaner and I didn’t fancy my chances getting her to come let me back in as I don’t have her number.
The morning after my parents went away I was woken up by a noise outside and didn’t think anything of it, got up and went to the toilet. I realised that the noise was the bin lorry. I couldn’t remember if we had taken the bin out the night before so I run downstairs in my pyjamas to check. We had not taken the bin out. Grateful the night before had been cool enough for pyjamas (this was during the heatwave) I run out the house and grab the bin and run after the bin lorry in my Gryffindor jogging bottoms, bright orange SiTC 2015 t-shirt and nothing at all on my feet. Not even socks. One nice bin man waves me over with my bin and goes “you’re new here aren’t you?” to which I nod whilst yawning, he goes “We woke you up, didn’t we?” I nod again and say thanks as he hands me back my bin and I walk back to the house, avoiding as much broken glass and stones as I can.