A Home of Our Own

We moved in to our new place this weekend. It’s a 2.5 bedroom apartment with a bit of an ocean view (Port Philip Bay). By that I mean we can see the bay from one of our windows, and have a million dollar view of sunsets over the bay if we walk out the front gate.

The move itself went well – we just filled up the Commodore and headed over. Unfortunately, we are still awaiting our furniture from the States, which apparently took a left turn at Vanuatu and is now arriving in late October. So we had to quickly buy a few pieces to tide us over until it arrives. Marlys made three trips to IKEA to secure a bed, table and four chairs. It was delivered on time, but then came the pleasure of putting it all together. True to its reputation, IKEA is a chore to assemble. After cursing IKEA, Sweden and Swedes (not you, Jean, or anyone <51% Swedish), the furniture was able to stand on its own. Add the delivery of refrigerator, washer/ dryer, microwave, TV, etc. and we have a semblance of a home.

Of course, any home is not without its quirks. In the first two days, the hot water went out twice. Looking on the positive side, this has given us the opportunity to meet the landlord/ owner/upstairs neighbor, Mick. Nice guy and 101% Aussie, so he is friendly and helpful. All seems well now, although Matt says a novena before every shower.

On a more entertaining note, the woman who lives downstairs wanted to play her music LOUD on Sunday night. We found this interesting especially as we were vetted for the apartment it was stressed that this was a quiet building and priority would be given to quiet tenants. Loud music wasn’t enough -- after playing the same song three times -- our neighbor decided she also wanted to "sing". At this point Matt reached for the earplugs. The music selection (which had a promising start) quickly took a downward spiral when she followed up Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire with the theme to ”St Elmo’s Fire”. Matt threw down his paper, pulled out the earplugs, and stomped off to introduce himself. Marlys heard Matt "knock", muffled talking, and then a considerable drop in decibels. Moments later a completely calm and even laughing Matt returned. Our neighbor - and Matt’s new friend - answered the door in a T-shirt and underwear (black). After promising to turn things down, she asked Matt to, "come on in and let's be mates". Her speech was a bit slurry, so Matt is giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming she was using “mate” in the Australian sense, not the biological sense.

The next day we noticed our courtyard DOES look a little like the one on Melrose Place.

Matt has also been practicing his wrong side of the road driving. As yet, body count remains zero.

Yes, we know we have yet to post something on our Tasmania trip. We promise it is coming.