We moved into our new digs three weeks ago. It is due to that fact that I can now speak as an expert on a few things to do after you move. OK, maybe not exactly an expert, but I’ll share some of my experiences on what to do (or not to do) after you move in.
1. Change the blade on your razor. I am not a huge fan of shaving my legs, but due to some unsightly hair experiences of late, I have vowed to become better at it. Typically, the super galactic razor blade probably made by scientists at NASA that is advertised to give you a smoother shave thus less risk for cuts and nicks gets changed (under my ownership) approximately once every two years or so. With my new commitment to not being able to braid my leg hair, I decided it was time to change it. New house, new start, new razorblade. Why not? Unfortunately, when used to an old blade, you tend to get a little careless. The old blade is dull, and along with not really cutting off much of your leg hair, it has minimal risk of cutting off much of your skin. Not so with a new blade, I was reminded. I am now healing from no less than six shaving cuts. Per Leg.
2. Clean out the shower drains. The previous homeowners left the house pretty darn clean, but as do many of us, they didn’t think to clean out the shower drains. Neither did I, until our shower started draining slower, slower and slower. If you’ve never been tasked with this cleaning job, let me paint you a picture, but first it will require some practice on your part:
Step 1: Wash your hands.
Step 2: Reach one hand into your mouth and at least half way down your esophagus.
Step 3: Grasp the inside of your esophagus and pull it up and out through your mouth.
This will elicit the most hideous gag reflex, perhaps, of your life. Now you’re ready to clean the shower drain.
Step 1: Glove up.
Step 2: Grab tweezers (preferably an old pair…not the ones you use to pluck your eyebrows) or needle nose pliers (hopefully you don’t use these to pluck your nose hairs, either).
Step 3: Poke them into the drain and pinch them onto the drape of hairs you see there.
Step 4: Pull. Note: These few hairs are not the main problem. They are just the catchment system for what hangs unseen, below.
Step 5: Repeat and keep repeating, grasping other strands of hair and pulling. Eventually the big wad will come to the opening in the drain. This is where it really gets gross.
Step 6: Pull and reposition and pull and reposition until you successfully extract the slimy, possibly (but hopefully not) stinky, wad of the previous owner’s hair. If you have forgotten the trash can, run grab it. You’ll need to throw the hair wad in there, after you use it to throw up.
3. Lose the dogs. Mind you, we did not do this on purpose. They got out of the goat pen, where they have taken up residence to protect the goats from wildlife, and disappeared.
After searching for hours, Craigslisting, Facebooking and Tweeting “lost dogs” with their pictures and posting fliers on 25 rural electrical poles, they made it safely home, on their own. One after 24 hours, the other after 48. (No, they aren’t chipped. Yes, they will get chipped. Turkeys.)
4. Knock down some stuff. Mostly, the view impeding stuff. If it’s in the way and you don’t like it, take ‘er down baby. As for me, I need my Pikes Peak view.
And, although from my kitchen window, I only see the top two inches of the south side, it grounds me. And the offending shed was blocking my view.
Thanks for removing it, honey.
We’re getting ready for the spring down here in Penrose…kidding season is just around the corner…hang on for cute pictures!
– The Goat Cheese Lady