We are getting new windows this week. I personally would not have chosen mid-winter three weeks before Iza’s due date to put in new windows, even with the arctic drafts zipping through every room.
No, we live in a co-op, as most apartment owners in Sweden do, like a whole country gone New York City. And the co-op decided to change windows this winter. And, while they did move our time up, which was nice, we could not opt out or put the windows off.
The windows are going to happen, baby or not. So we spent the night rearranging furniture in our tiny space, the desk out of the kitchen and behind the dining table. All of NK’s toys in a corner. Plants everywhere, bureaus moved, beds on end, TVs unplugged. After I write this, I will be tape paper walkways on the floors for the guys.
Shockingly, I don’t feel claustrophobic yet; there is no chaos in this small space. Maybe it is because NK is asleep.
And, really, this is nothing. During my first winter in Sweden, in 2005, we subletted a studio, and the co-op decided to redo the bathroom, and we had no money to move.
First I endured days without heat – with the flu and Iza out of town. Then the heat came back on, but the toilet was in the supply closet downstairs, the shower in the laundry room in the basement. Most of the building emptied out, save for us and an elderly, scraggly, long-haired man who left needles in the toilet.
So three days with a pregnant wife and a toddler in semi-chaos? Hah.
At least we have heat. At least we have our bathroom. At least we have left our ancient addict behind.
Though I do miss him sometimes.