Week one – survive, get the bathroom and kitchen functioning so that you don’t feel like you’re camping. Clean. Obsess about the fact that you’ve left something burning and the propane tank is going to explode, every time you drive down the hill and that you alone are going to be responsible for burning the whole southern part of the west coast down. Unpack the essentials. Coffee, wine, and toothpaste.

Dinner? You want dinner?

Week two – drink wine while unpacking boxes, boxes, and more boxes because even though you did the Kon Mari method twice, you still have. So. Much. Sh*t.

Week three – give away sh*t to anyone who will take it and run down the hill before you have a chance to change your mind and run after them, after all, it’s special sh*t. It’s so special you paid good money for burly men to carry it up a steep driveway and a flight of stairs. Continue unpacking while begging the gardeners to make the never ending boxes fit in the blue bin so that you don’t look like a hoarder or a hillbilly even though technically, you live on a hill.

Week four – things are starting to fall into place, you still have boxes, but things are getting scrubbed, hung, hauled away, and the house is looking and feeling like home. You stumble from exhaustion or wine, out to the balcony to see one of the most incredible views you’ve ever seen and thank God, the universe or anyone/thing else that’s listening that you are the luckiest person alive.

Who knows, You might even make it to the Memorial Day town celebration #TopangaDays with your hair clean and pants on.



My Etsy find, finally hung, making the bedroom start to feel like home.