For two weeks, two homes

This week we closed on the apartment but have not yet left the one we are renting. The idea was to have time to paint and otherwise prep the new apartment, and properly clean and vacate the old one. Another hope was that the dog would be less traumatized by the move if he were able to be acclimated slowly to his new home: we could take him there, feed him treats and set up a little rest area for him while we painted, cleaned, etc.

The two apartments are about a mile apart, so we walk there in the mornings before it's time to go to work with the dog, laden with paint equipment and cleaning supplies. From one world to another, from Cobble Hill to Brooklyn Heights, from renters to owners.

One apartment is dark and cluttered, full of incomplete to-do lists and other people's FreshDirect boxes that we have been collecting in preparation for the move. One apartment is light-filled and echoingly empty. It seemed such a luxury to scour an empty refrigerator, unconcerned about the clock ticking as the interior heats up and the persihables perish. In general, there is such a strange sense of possibility in an empty apartment.