After seven years of being noncommittal about living in Camden (and Maine, for that matter), I’m moving out of my family’s home and into an apartment on the other side of town. I am perfectly aware of how ridiculous this is, but I have never, ever operated on a typical/expected life schedule, so eh, cookie, crumble, etc.

Anyhoo, for the past couple of weeks, my mother and I have been working on (and “ensouling”) my new place. When the landlady said I could paint, she probably had no idea we’d not only go to town, but we’d actually do it right. We’ve scraped, puttied, bin’ed, caulked, sanded and painted. When I haven’t been despondent about our progress (OMG, this is NEVER going to end) it’s been enormously gratifying to see the place transform.

There have been less than pleasant discoveries (grease splatters, for one) but last night, to my utter amusement, I found a couple of street signs hidden in a cubby under an eave. That’s right. Not one, but two! From the same street! It’s unclear how long they’ve been there, but I know a couple of Pearl Street natives who are happy to take them off my hands.