I took most of last week off work – first to help my oldest kid move the rest of her stuff to her new apartment, and then I hauled the four of them to Hersheypark. I love Hersheypark. I’ve been going there since I was a kid myself, and while a lot has changed at the park over the past four decades, a lot hasn’t. Being able to take my kids to a place I have such fondness for is a win/win. Anyway, we had a great time, but the week wasn’t exactly relaxing. I’m sunburnt and tired and a little queasy from all the garbage we ate (funnel cake, anyone? Some chocolate, perhaps?)
So on the advice of several of you, I got an Aeropress. Holy moley, how did I not know this thing existed?! It’s small, portable, super-easy to use and clean, and (by coffee-making standards) pretty darn cheap. It’s not as tedious as a Chemex; you just dump the water in there, wait a minute, and plunge. The plunger forces the water through the coffee but it’s very finely filtered, much more so than a French press. I love the fact that it brews straight into my mug, where it stays piping hot, and then there’s no pot to wash either.
I’ve been enjoying it in my “new” living room… as some of you know, a water leak brought my living room ceiling down a few months ago. The landlords fixed the leak right away, but they took their sweet time about repairing the rest of it, and the whole thing was a huge mess. (I’m pretty sure I’m going to be mopping up plaster dust for as long as I live here.) I ended up tossing some ruined items and putting the rest of my living room furniture in storage while I dealt with cleanup and repairs.
I finally got the last of the furniture back from storage and the repair shop last week. The coffee table and wood bookcases, the desk, the chest behind the couch – those all came from my dad’s house, and I don’t think they’d been wiped down in decades. I gently washed and scrubbed and oiled them. They make me so happy to look at. But you know what the best part is? Underneath that wonderful smell of oil, they still smell like my dad’s house – that is, the house I grew up in, the house he never left. It’s something I refused to think about when we took everything out of his house and sold it a few months ago – that I would never again smell that dusty-radiator-and-a-million-old-books smell of the house I grew up in. It broke my heart a little.
That smells-like-home scent has subtly pervaded my entire living room, thanks to the furniture and (no doubt) to the dozens of books I brought from his old house to my new one. That smell will probably fade over time, but right now my favorite Guerlain couldn’t make me any happier.
Here’s a few photos. Yeah, this house is wack. Sometimes I can’t believe I lucked into it.