Itinerant life

I spent the first 21 years of my life in the same house on Summer Street in Media, and the last 14 years in a cute Cape Cod in Wilmington.  But in between I lived in nine homes in 14 years. 

My first stop was New Britain, Connecticut, where I went to graduate school at Central Connecticut State University.  The apartment was a low-budget basement-level one-bedroom – serviceable and perfect for one. New Britain had tons of churches per capita – and the Greek Orthodox church was right across the street.  It was also very much a Polish neighborhood.  When I took my car in for servicing, the mechanic called and asked for Mrs. Lombardoski.  I laughed and told him, “no, it’s Italian, not Polish!”

After graduating, I moved to Bristol, Rhode Island, to work at Roger Williams University.  As a member of the residence hall staff, I had an apartment on the bottom floor of one of the dorms.  The sliding glass doors faced the bay!!  (As did the windows in my office; I’ll never see the like again.)  I loved living close to Newport and developed a lifelong affinity for touring mansions!

When I changed jobs at Roger Williams and lost the apartment perk, my friend Cathy and I got an apartment in Swansea, Massachusetts.  She was working just south of Boston, so we settled in between the two places.  It was great to have someone to talk to every night.  Cathy and I took turns trying out new recipes and loved playing games.  We holed up there to weather Hurricane Gloria- not too bad that far inland, but the harbors in Newport, Bristol, and Barrington wound up with boats piled up on the shore – incredible.

Hartford, Connecticut was the next move.  I had the cutest little apartment in downtown Hartford, and was able to take the bus 15 minutes up the road to work.  The apartment was in a refurbished neighborhood of apartment buildings, all brick with beautiful sidewalks and landscaping outside.  It was actually more like tiny than little – a galley kitchen, a 10×15 foot living/dining room, and a small bedroom and bath. But I felt like quite the urban professional.  One night, I was awoken at 2 o’clock in the morning by loud clomping that sounded exactly like someone had put a pair of sneakers in the basement dryer (which was just below my apartment).  Not being stupid enough to go down into a dark city basement at that hour, I called in a noise complaint and a couple of nice officers from the Hartford PD took care of it for me.

Next, my friend Debbie invited me to live in her guest bedroom at her condo in Vernon, Connecticut.  Deb, too, was a lot of fun to live with… she taught me to cross stitch.  It was to Deb that I gave one of my best gifts ever – I had a cross-stitch design made to match the pattern of her china, and I stitched it up with a grace before meals in the center.  Deb burst into tears when I gave it to her.  My stay at Debbie’s was more short-lived than planned; I was laid off and out of work for five months, and then wound up getting a job closer to my family back in Pennsylvania.

After eight years in New England, I got a job with a company whose offices were in Philadelphia and King of Prussia, so I got an apartment in Wallingford, Pennsylvania.  I got a two-bedroom so that Pat could live with me when he was out of school, and later Jerry took over the second bedroom.  I had a fun Christmas Eve party there for the whole family, but I managed to smash my hands (yes, both of them) in the window.  It was one of those oddly warm winter nights (I threatened to move back to New England because we had no snow that winter), and I opened th window to let in fresh air.  When I tried to close it, it wouldn’t budge.  So brilliant woman that I am, I grabbed the bottom of the sash and pulled, hoping to just adjust it down enough that I could push it from the top.  Instead the window slammed.  Ouch!!  Tad, brilliant man that he is, punched the window (to let up the pressure?), which of course broke the window, but didn’t bring the sash up.  When all was said and done, I was just bruised, not broken.

The Pennsylvania job didn’t pan out as expected, and I soon changed jobs to work in Wilmington, Delaware.  I got tired of the commute and moved to Christiana Meadows in Bear, Delaware.  Adam stayed with me for a bit in that apartment.  When Pat graduated, we got a two-bedroom in the same complex for a while. 

Then, I decided I needed three bedrooms and found a condo in New Castle, Delaware.   Big, big, mistake.  It was an ugly little apartment, oddly laid out.  It’s greatest claim to fame is that it was there that Pat proposed to Lisa.

Finally, it was time to buy a house…

I love my little Cape Cod in Lyndalia, Wilmington, Delaware.  I almost didn’t get the house because the home inspection showed that the house needed a new roof right away, which I couldn’t afford, and the sellers didn’t want to give me a break on the price to fix.  I reluctantly called off the deal, but two weeks later the owners changed their minds.  Before I moved in, we removed the green shag carpeting and covered over the green linoleum floor in the kitchen.  A few years later, I finally had enough money to replace the harvest gold appliances and cheap replacement linoleum with an almost-new kitchen (kept the cabinets, but replaced everything else).  I’ve also installed gas logs, converted the screen porch to a four-season room, and freshened up the paint jobs in almost every room. 

Everyone needs a place to call home, and I’m glad I’ve finally settled in this one.  At least for the time being.