Kris and I called our old house Bookhaven, and had threatened to do the same to the new place, but Joel and Aimee were quick to object. Mac and Jeremy backed them up. So, we've been tossing around names for the new estate. I'm beginning to believe that Spiderhaven might be appropriate.

I did some yard work on Sunday morning: I pulled weeds, pruned bushes, mowed a bit of the lawn. I took out the trash. Over the course of an hour roaming across our property, I stumbled through at least two dozen spider webs, made two dozen spiders homeless.

No exaggeration.

What's more, none of this bothered me.

My favorite spider web — one that I consciously avoided all day only to accidentally destroy it when going to the garage for a popsicle — seemed to be suspended from nothing in the middle of the lawn. I first noticed it in the long, low light of morning, the strands glistening, a seemingly free-standing structure. I crept close to stare at the arachnid owner. Like most of the spiders around our house, this one was a small, reddish guy: bulbous body and spindly legs. Only, he was more ingenious than his brethren. He'd started from the power line, dropped to the ground, anchored on the rhododendron, and weaved a huge web, a wonder of the spider world.

When we first moved in, all these spiders creeped me out. I'd walk down the front walk and have a web break across my face and need to stop to wipe the whole thing away. I'd have to examine myself to be sure the attendant spider wasn't anywhere around. If I found one, I'd smash it.

Over the past month, though, I've become inured to the beasts.

So it was that on Sunday, as I roamed the yard doing chores, I barely paused to wipe away the webbing when I broke a new web. I didn't even bother to check whether or not the spiders were on me or had fallen to the ground. I certainly didn't try to kill any of the spiders I found. What's the use? Like a hydra, seven more would rise to take its place.

(The only time I really get creeped out still is when a spider gets caught in my hair, and out of the corner of my eye I can see it dangling from my bangs. Then I agree with Jeff: they're creepy-ass things.)

All this is to say: maybe Spiderhaven would be a good name for our new house. Or The Spider's Web. Or Spider Land.

Right. Those are worse than Bookhaven.

Still, we're looking for a name. Rosemont? The Orchards? The Farmhouse?

Would you like an update on our progress with the house?

The sale of the old house has closed, the transaction has recorded, and we've deposited our profits in the bank. (In fact, Kris took us out last night to spend some of the profits. We came home with a new "micro-suede" easy chair — very comfy! — some baskets, a new flat-screen computer monitor, and no high-definition television.) All remnants of our past house have been stripped away.

Meanwhile, the sheetrock project continues at the new house. The new drywall was hung by the end of last week, and for the past several days the crew has been "mudding". Were we doing textured walls, they'd be finished now. We're not doing textured walls. We're going for a more authentic smooth finish, and that takes time. Lots of time. The foreman — er, forewoman — is sure they'll be done by Friday, though, which is right on schedule for Kris to begin painting. (The insulation disasters are still not fully repaired, but they will be soon. In theory.)

We'll paint this weekend and into next week. We'll also replace the molding. Then we'll finish the wiring in the parlor, move in the furniture, set up the phones and the computer network, hang the art and mirrors, then clean clean clean.

If all goes according to plan, we'll be ready for our Open House on Sunday the 8th (to which you are all invited).

Still no bath — only showers — I still feel unclean and as if some vital piece of myself is missing. You non-bathers are crazy!

On this day at foldedspace.org

2005 — Something Like Myself   For the first time in months (or years), I feel whole. Complete. Correct. I am myself.

2003 — Grammar Geek Cannot Sleep   In which a bout of insomnia leads to the library, which leads to a grammar book, which leads to research into diagramming sentences. In which I am a geek.