The Big Move

Okay, okay. The first sign that said, "Don't move in here!!" should've been the dead mouse in the kitchen sink. And the other dead mouse behind the door in one of the bedrooms. But, I was 9 and a half months pregnant, and we had just found termites in our old place which was only one bedroom, and we needed two bedrooms, what with Per about to be born. We moved into what we call "The Rathole" in July last year. The carpet was horrible and it smelled funny. Like wet plaster and old funk. Whatever that is.
Not long after we moved in, Per was born and we brought him home. We planned to stay there for a while, chalking it up to one of those "when-we-were-first-married-we-lived-in-the-worst-apartment-but-we-survived" kind of stories. That was okay until one night, we realized that we were smelling cigarette smoke. I have nothing personally against smokers, but I don't want to live in their smell. And I certainly don't want my baby to be living in their smell and damaging his young lungs. So we moved his crib into our bedroom and the three of us became roomies. We began the hunt for a new apartment right away and shut the door to The Smokers' Lounge to try to prevent the smell from permeating through the whole apartment.
Nothing worked out until the end of January. We have finally found a new place and moved! We have new carpet and new paint and best of all -- no funky smells! We are so excited. And Per loves finally being able to be on the carpet!
The pictures above are, of course, of painting and cleaning the new place, not the Rathole. Who cares about the Rathole anymore anyway?