Sorry for the absence. It's been a busy two weeks. First, we arrived back from the honeymoon and went straight to packing. Then there were complications with the lease, which is its own soap-opera saga, but suffice to say at one point the realtor was saying something about going to court and we were being asked why we couldn't just borrow money from V's company to pay an extra down payment the day before move-in. ("It's a company. That's not a lot of money to them." Actual. Quote.) Because that is quite a reasonable last-minute request and good business sense. No wonder Brazil is still trying to edge into the big leagues. But let's leave that for another post. We did eventually move in without having to sell kidneys or offer an unborn child as collateral (no, I'm not pregnant, stop being silly!). But it was a bit exhausting, being the person balancing between the realtor, the co-signer, us and the owner. My winning personality eventually came through, apparently, because at the end of it all, we were "totally darling" and we got what we wanted. Those were two awful, awful days.
We moved in and THEN I had my breakdown. It wasn't when the gas appeared to be leaking ever so slightly, or when we found termites in the dresser and door handles installed upside down, nor when the front door locked and refused to re-open on the first day. It wasn't when we discovered that the reason no water came out of the hot water faucets was because the owner had removed the pipes. Rust. And had no intention of putting them back in as the cold water worked just fine...and honestly, "did we really use hot water all that much?" (He later felt bad, and offered a solution. Electric hot water heaters for the sinks. They exist. We will be using them, because boiling water to wash dishes is getting old.) No, my breakdown happened when the sink started dripping. The tiniest things...
But those are stories for later.
The dilapidated mansion is now much nicer, thanks to removing the collection of oil paintings,the broken neon teal pottery and the topless coffee table (kind of a fun optical illusion, as hubby pointed out: "Look! No glass!" but not so good if someone actually tries to put their glass down...). We're going to paint the black ceiling in the kitchen and the strange 80's pimping gold fleck sponge paint in the bathrooms, raise the mirrors so we can actually see ourselves in them, and generally, fix it up.
And then, just two days after the move-in, hubby had shoulder surgery and I got to experience a night in a Brazilian hospital. Oh dear. The whole surgery bit is enough for a post as well. Things are so different here, some ways very good, some ways not so much. So I'll be writing about that soon too.
But for now, I bid you adieu, as my lilac writing room is calling to me...and I'm supposed to come up with a homemade room spray to banish the old smell (and smoker-ness) of these rooms since I was too cheap to pay the exorbitant supermarket prices for pretty smells. So yeah. Gotta get on that.