Two thumbs up for house and 'hood, one thumb down for visibility.

I love my new home. I love that I'm sitting in my very own office right now, writing at my father's wonderful old desk, occasionally peeking over my shoulder at the stunning Flatirons view out the window. I love that Steve and I made dinner at home every night last week, nothing fancy, but lovely little meals we whipped up together. I love that we can walk - barely a five-minute stroll - to the brewpub, the Indian restaurant, the Mexican place, the pizza joint, the cute cafe, the hardware store, the drycleaner, the supermarket, the liquor store, the climbing/skiing/mountaineering shop, and . . . the gym! I love that we joined this gym, and worked out there together one evening last week, so that I now have a wider range of options for getting my much-needed daily dose of sweat. I love that Shasta has taken so easily to her new abode, and to me, and seems to split her time between prowling contentedly and seeking us out for kitty affection. I love that I can head out the front door for a run and be at the foot of the mountains in under two miles. I love my huge backyard, though after raking leaves for hours yesterday and barely making a dent in the piles, I think I'll love it a bit more when Steve gets back in town and can take over lawn duty. I love my apple trees, I love the applesauce I made from their fruit earlier this week, and I hope I'll love the apple pie I'm planning to make a bit later today. I love my wood floors, my sunny yoga room, and the many, many, many closets I have already filled with my too-many clothes.

What I don't love, however, is the darkness. When I exit the bus coming home, the stop it drops me at has no nearby streetlight. The walk to the corner, maybe ten feet away, is pretty frightening, since there's a right-turn cut just before the streetlight and it's almost impossible for me to gauge it accurately, particularly with the headlight glare from the heavy northbound Broadway traffic. Once I survive that initial stretch, I have a pretty well-lit journey along a bike path, though I have to be very careful to watch for traffic entering and exiting the shopping center to my right. And when I turn into our neighborhood, it's REALLY dark, particularly on our block. I can't walk on the sidewalk, because it curves a couple of times and I can't see the directional changes (I've already fallen off the curb a couple of times and walked smack into a parked car once). So I walk in the street, in the darkness. Our house is right under the only streetlight on the block, which helps me figure out when I've reached home. But the porch light is motion-sensing rather than always-on, and it doesn't light up until I'm over the first two steps and nearly at the front door. We intend to add lights over the garage and put a better one above the front door, but we haven't had time to make a Home Depot run yet. And yesterday, I received in the mail a notice from the City of Boulder informing us of the city's "light pollution" restrictions, which may actually prohibit us from adding the kind of light I need to find my way safely home. I plan to call the city next week to inquire, but I'm anticipatorily irritated.

I'm sure the darkness will become less and less an issue as I become more comfortable in my new surroundings. I know that when I'm familiar with an area, I move through it comfortably regardless of how well I can see. But for now, it's a medium-sized fly in the otherwise honey-sweet ointment of this new life.

Comments

[rebecca]

Hey, I'm glad you love your new home so much. It sounds wonderful. OK, not to be a dork - I'm sure you thought of this - but what about a flashlight? Carry a big Mag Light in your bag and have it double as a self defense weapon????