Life in the construction zone is coming to a close. 32 weeks have gone by reasonably quickly. Like Mark Watney stuck on Mars, this has been a test of adaptability. I think we can safely say, the kids are going to remember this year forever.
We spent time at the fancy laundromat, the one with big TVs, WiFi, a coffee shop and creperie.
We ate reasonably well, despite not having a kitchen.
We wore headlamps quite often, in this case because the ice cream for rootbeer floats was stored in the deep freeze out in the garage.
Or in this case, because the espresso machine was out in the garage as well.
We did Halloween.
We watched movies, some very appropriate to life in contained quarters.
We tried to rig up something to practice piano.
We tried to keep our day jobs, often converting the Hab into an “office”.
And I think we successfully deceived ourselves into thinking this was totally normal. Heck, there’s a whole magazine dedicated to people who choose to live this way.
And while I wouldn’t choose this lifestyle, it’s hard to explain the feeling of coming home to a quiet, pitch black driveway…but if you focus very carefully, you can see home.
Once you open those doors, the warmth and chatter and laughter come spilling out. The party begins, because we’re all home in the Hab together.