We’ve been in the apartment now for almost two weeks. Things are coming along. We’re slowly unpacking and getting things in order. It’s been hard, because they are still not finished with the actual building, which has been contentious. We feel we’re paying a lot of money to live here. The elevator still isn’t working (we’re on the fifth floor), there is still a great deal of construction going on around us (a problem whenever Em is napping), we’re still waiting on lights, and we still have no idea how to get our mail.
But we’re making due. And don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of great things about it, and those great things far outnumber the problems. (I don’t want anyone out there to think I’m ungrateful.) We’re slowly getting to know, understand and love our new home.
There is one person in our family, however, who is having a great deal of trouble warming up to the place.
Murray hides from 8 AM until 5 PM, Monday through Friday. It’s almost like he has a full time job. Between those hours, Murray is out of sight. He doesn’t visit the litterbox, he doesn’t come out for scritches, he doesn’t even eat. (I know! A SHOCKER!)
But that doesn’t mean we don’t know exactly where he is, quite the contrary. Between 8 AM and 5 PM, you know exactly where to find Murray—in a little mound underneath our bedspread.
He knows when the construction workers enter the building long before we do. He knows they’re here before we hear the first hammer hit its first nail, before we feel the first boot slap the hallway floors, and before they fire up their buzz saws, drills, or whatever.
Sometimes we see him take cover. Suddenly, his legs will deflate, he’ll lower his belly to the ground and run commando style into our bedroom.
I am hoping that this is only a phase and that it ends soon because I miss his daily antics.