yurt update Nov 28-30

Continued from here.

Thanksgiving is perfectly relaxing (for me – E says meeting future in-laws isn’t exactly the pinnacle of relaxing) except for the half-days of air travel. We see my family and play games and eat amazing food and take naps. On one of the flights home we give the yurt a name: Diana. With her outer vinyl on she is big and white and round and reminds me of the moon. 

To our relief (but not surprise) she is still standing when we return on Saturday. At this point, she has a bed and an inner canvas and an outer canvas and a door and a piece of canvas to cover the central hole, which we are calling her hat. She won’t get many improvements this week as E and I return to work.

We do a little packing at our rental house Saturday evening and then rest to prep for moving day. On Sunday, we pack and pack and pack. A friend comes to help us load a truck. We unload it under the cow shed next to Diana. We have intentions to put in a floor of some kind before we move in most of our belongings. We rearrange electrical cords and plug in two space heaters and our new-to-us fridge. 

In the late afternoon sun Diana gets encouragingly warm on the inside and our second night of sleep, even without insulation, is vastly more enjoyable than the first. We don’t have a thermometer, but we judge that it might be in the mid to high fifties inside when we wake up the next morning.

On Monday we both go to work. In the afternoon I go the local YMCA – our near-term shower option – and pick up soup from Panera for dinner. We ordered a hot plate online but it is taking its sweet time to arrive, so dining will be interesting this week. But it was part of the plan, and in the grand scheme, a few nights’ eating out is small change as a part of this rent-saving move.

I spend most of Tuesday cleaning and packing up the remnants at the rental house. When the carpet cleaner says he will be late, I take myself to breakfast at the little diner called Lenny’s on the corner of our street. Somehow in the year I have lived in Colonial Beach I have never been, but it is a lovely little place. There is little in the world as delightful as a solo brunch date. 

Then I pack and clean and after the carpet is done I leave the keys on the counter and head on my way. It is official – we no longer live in a cozy little house in Colonial Beach, but in a yurt we built in a cow shed in Hanover. 

As time allows, I hope to write more about the emotions involved in moving into the yurt, more about particular aspects of yurt life, future planned improvements and updates. Until then!