I’m still settling into our new house, but my moments of joy have become more nuanced and abstruse.
It’s been—depending on which definition one uses—almost exactly a month since we moved house; and, as my wife and I devoted a lot of time immediately after moving to unpacking everything and getting things into sensible places, for almost all that month I’ve had a house that was homely rather than box-ridden. This has increased my enjoyment of the house greatly (the cats are potentially less in favour of an almost box-free house). And (perhaps unsurprisingly), I still have moments where I stop to marvel because I’ve re-noticed the house is ours.
But, now the first days where the fact of owning a house was an overwhelming excitement have passed, the small moments—often unexpected—are starting to stand out.
Greatest (and least unexpected) is obviously Una emerging through the banisters as I pass to bat my head.
The least expected though is a clear mirror. The shower is mounted within a cubicle spacious enough I can move around without touching the sides. The cubicle has a sliding door with a good seal rather than a curtain or simple folding panel. The water swiftly reaches and maintains a pleasing warmth. All these things are pleasures; but pleasures one would expect to be so. Another feature of the shower is that the extractor fan is effective enough that the bathroom mirror doesn’t end up fogged up when I have a shower. The steam of a shower turning the mirror misty has been so ubiquitous I’d never really thought of it not happening, let alone realised what joy there was in seeing my face clearly reflected when I stepped from the shower.
There are the greater joys of having the last uncertainly placed objects reach their most suitable location and of heading out in Spring to replant the garden, but for now I am heading off to enjoy my new shower—assuming Una doesn’t entirely block the stairs to demand fusses.