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Riverknoll, that is- about as west-sidey of the RIT campus as you can get without actually being in the river. Team Emily (moi, her and Cameron- Eleanor had to work late yesterday) got there around 3, and the loadout was done by a bit past 5. It's been a LONNNG time since I've experienced That New Apartment Smell (clean) and look (empty). Em and Cam were in the other car getting the key, but the door was open when I got there first, so I got to see what home's gonna be for her for the next several months, if not years.
As you might expect on a geeky campus, it's bigger than it looks on the inside. Everything fit, and other than the toilet, everything works. Yeah, that was a good thing to figure out on the first day. We managed, using the page from the now-useless Hurricane Irene playbook about filling your bathtub to get flushing water, and it's on her list to call the maintenance types about when she goes back today.
Yes, she is going back today. She doesn't have to, but she wants to. (That sound you just heard was the creak of floor boards shifting under the weight of her growing up.) Another thing on her list for today is to put together her futon, which came in a surprisingly compact box for the entire frame (not much bigger than the boxes housing just the bottom frame to a conventional bed) and a tightly-packed jelly roll of a mattress. Plus a free anti-slouch pad, which, if they'd had them 20-plus years ago, we might never have thrown out the one we bought from the same store in one of its previous incarnations.
I met the owner of the futon store this time, sitting on one of his floor samples reading a Ptolemy Tompkins book and replete in his "I put ketchup on my ketchup" t-shirt. Although he didn't own it when we last bought goods for our shelter from them, he brought out a photo album of both of their long-ago Monroe Avenue showrooms, complete with several of the in-store kitty that I suddenly remembered having met. He knows my mutual friend of the former owner, AND he used to live in Riverknoll himself once. Good times.
These chats, though, were after most of the heavy lifting had been done and we'd emptied the truck. It wasn't that hot, the apartment has A/C, and I'd moved all of these items once before getting them to our house, but not quite as far and never all at once. Damn, my eyeballs were sweating by the time the sofa went up the little set of stairs. Nice people across the way offered to help. Mostly guys and one girlgeek, playing some sort of outdoor game involving a tree stump, a collection of wood nails, and a set of hammers. What, beer pong's not good enough for you darn kids?
Ultimately, the three of us wound up downtown at the Dinosaur. Cameron is a definite convert to THAT. We drove home separately, yet wound up pulling onto our street at virtually the same second, me cheered along the way by the rare sounds of a late-season Mets victory and the warm fuzzy feeling of nurturing your young by throwing them the hell out of your house into a better place.
Edited to correct geography; also, the phone autocorrected "east-sidey" to "east-sudsy," because that makes SO much more sense:P
As you might expect on a geeky campus, it's bigger than it looks on the inside. Everything fit, and other than the toilet, everything works. Yeah, that was a good thing to figure out on the first day. We managed, using the page from the now-useless Hurricane Irene playbook about filling your bathtub to get flushing water, and it's on her list to call the maintenance types about when she goes back today.
Yes, she is going back today. She doesn't have to, but she wants to. (That sound you just heard was the creak of floor boards shifting under the weight of her growing up.) Another thing on her list for today is to put together her futon, which came in a surprisingly compact box for the entire frame (not much bigger than the boxes housing just the bottom frame to a conventional bed) and a tightly-packed jelly roll of a mattress. Plus a free anti-slouch pad, which, if they'd had them 20-plus years ago, we might never have thrown out the one we bought from the same store in one of its previous incarnations.
I met the owner of the futon store this time, sitting on one of his floor samples reading a Ptolemy Tompkins book and replete in his "I put ketchup on my ketchup" t-shirt. Although he didn't own it when we last bought goods for our shelter from them, he brought out a photo album of both of their long-ago Monroe Avenue showrooms, complete with several of the in-store kitty that I suddenly remembered having met. He knows my mutual friend of the former owner, AND he used to live in Riverknoll himself once. Good times.
These chats, though, were after most of the heavy lifting had been done and we'd emptied the truck. It wasn't that hot, the apartment has A/C, and I'd moved all of these items once before getting them to our house, but not quite as far and never all at once. Damn, my eyeballs were sweating by the time the sofa went up the little set of stairs. Nice people across the way offered to help. Mostly guys and one girlgeek, playing some sort of outdoor game involving a tree stump, a collection of wood nails, and a set of hammers. What, beer pong's not good enough for you darn kids?
Ultimately, the three of us wound up downtown at the Dinosaur. Cameron is a definite convert to THAT. We drove home separately, yet wound up pulling onto our street at virtually the same second, me cheered along the way by the rare sounds of a late-season Mets victory and the warm fuzzy feeling of nurturing your young by throwing them the hell out of your house into a better place.
Edited to correct geography; also, the phone autocorrected "east-sidey" to "east-sudsy," because that makes SO much more sense:P