view comatosis

The move went down pretty fast on Saturday, after the days of preparation and "just-in-time" box shuttling. We had a couple of (fantastic!) helpers, plus the Old Man Winter truck driver. Even the sofa-albatross made it down the stairs after only mild mixed-language cursing. We had our stuff piled high in the new place after only two hours or so and the Official Album of the Move, "Takk..." by Sigur Rós, blaring out of the speakers after another hour.

With the exception of a much-needed trip to the swimming pool, we spent yesterday in the apartment, alternating between ripping open cardboard boxes and wandering over to the windows to look out at the sea. The view makes me positively giddy, and neither of us can go for long without a trip out to the balcony, or a frozen moment in front of the glass. There's always a ship coming in, or seagulls whirling over the water, or spooky clouds desecending on a distant mountain, or the faint form of Snæfellsjökull, 80 miles distant across the bay.

It's a bit like living in a cruise ship, as E is fond of pointing out. The water is always there, and when sitting down at the table or on the couch, it's all you can see. Based on this boat-like setup, and in keeping with an earlier maritime tradition of apartment names, we think we'll call this place the Iceboat. Sort of like the Jugboat, but in Iceland, and with an added significance to a certain group of guys from Billerica.