So, it’s finally our first night in our new apartment, and none too soon. There have been two labor scares within the past 48 hours, a severe reminder that the baby could arrive at any moment. There’s still a lot of work for me to do: While our living room and bedroom are more or less set up–I rushed over the past day and a half to get the place in shape so Lisa wouldn’t have to do anything when she arrived–right now the only thing the nursery is good for is housing guinea pigs. To get them out of there, I have to clear out the area where their cage is going to be located, a difficult task considering that’s where the movers dumped most of our stuff when they brought everything up. Then there’s a crib to assemble. A lot of the conversations I’ve had with people who are already parents is that Lisa and I shouldn’t expect much sleep for the first few months after the baby arrives. I’m not sure what to think about that, as I’m already not getting any sleep.

I can’t get over how huge our new place is. I’m thinking it’s probably the biggest place I’ve lived in over 20 years, and the few residences I remember being bigger may have been inflated by my memory. The cat is slowly getting adjusted to the apartment. Not surprisingly, he hid for the first day, but as of today seems to becoming increasingly aware there’s 25 yards of hallways and other contiguous spaces for him to gallop through. It’ll be interesting to see how he reacts once those spaces are free of boxes.

I’m still steamed about the overall moving experience, by which I refer to both my ill-conceived planning, as well as the sheer ineptitude of the hired movers. That’ll be a long entry should I choose to write it, but for now exhaustion seems determined to haul me to bed.

More later.