By Unanimous Decision

Yes, almost a week later than I told you we would, we picked a place to live!  We're going with Option 1 - Brand New and Modern.  Our Agent is negotiating our contract, and if all goes well we can move in sometime in early to mid-July.  Like the title says, when it came down to the final two, all four of us agree that this is our best choice.  

We revisited each of our top four on Monday, and then Monday night went over to check out the neighborhood of Option 2, by the Botanic Gardens, on our own.  That location is still our overwhelming favorite.  We showed up just before dusk at the gate of the Gardens and went for a wander.  There is a scent to Singapore--green, and fresh, very lightly floral--that I might crazily suppose is the smell of plant-breath (as opposed to Houston Smell, which as much as I love H-town, is the scent of rotting swamp muck and chemical company carcinogens that occasionally permeates the city and makes you run right back inside on otherwise pretty-looking hot days, coughing out another prayer of thanksgiving for air-conditioning and filters).  Singapore Smell is concentrated in the Botanic Gardens; I can't yet identify many plants by sight here, but I can smell gingers and camellias, tart hibiscus and rich orchid.  The air is cool and fresh (though yes, super humid), and as we walked under the canopy of giant trees with swampy roots, past massive shrubs and little rambling flowers, we heard a symphony of wee bugs and unknown birds.  And then, you guys, there were ladies doing yoga on the lawn, right there at what could have been steps from my front door.  

All that loveliness, and that apartment still wasn't the right choice.  In the end, that was just clear to all of us.  It was a two-story unit, and we've already established that I'm going to need to spend the next three years avoiding stairs, but that wasn't a deal-breaker.  The layout was weird, and I think none of us ever felt comfortable there.  I know I tried to feel right about it, for myself, and as much as I love the location and thought I could be ok with anything to go skip across the street for morning Tai Chi in the garden, it just wasn't right.

So Option 1 is in there area where our Agent told us we would want to live, because we're Americans.  I can't even begin to tell you how much that activates my inner "you can't tell me what to do" rebellious teenager, and it's a mark of how terrific the apartment is that I am not still stomping my foot and refusing to live there on principle.  The unit we've chosen is on the 30th floor, the view is amazing, and we've got two lovely balconies where I can grow (or fail to, you know) every pretty tropical thing I can conceive.  And no, I'm probably not ever going to let the kids out on the balcony.  It's so new the (very awesome) appliances still have plastic wrap on them, and it has every possible technological innovation (fingerprint scanner for the elevator?  Yes.  Programmable lights?  You bet. Control everything from your phone? Of course.) The pool is great, there's a cute playground and lovely little garden walking paths, and there are even "meditation gardens" on various floors.  I'll give you the full tour when we get moved in.

I knew that deciding where to live on such a short timeline would be strange; we bought our house in Houston after two years of stalking the neighborhood and walking through open houses.  I had thought when we revisited our favorite spots on Monday that the clouds would part and angels would be singing Home Sweet Home when we walked into the right place, or something.  That didn't happen.  None of the places felt like home, and in the end, we decided on the apartment we chose less because of all the amenities and nice stuff and more because we'd be able to negotiate a good lease with the company and save ourselves lots of hassle on maintenance and upkeep.  It wouldn't make for good tv, honestly.

I'm revising my idea of what home feels like, as a result.  Home is, first of all, where my children make me laugh and drive me nuts, in turns.  It's where we have tea and cookies on rainy afternoons.  It's where I cook dinner despite having very few ingredients, even less cookware, two sad spoons and one dull knife, and where I tidy up and do dishes not only because a small space feels unwieldy quickly if you don't but also because falling into the rhythm of that work feels right.  Our temporary apartment is feeling very homey, today.  I've unpacked stacks of favorite books and bought a good-smelling candle and a few houseplants.   I'm wearing a cozy sweater and my rings and fun socks that my friend bought (because we've turned up the A/C as far as it goes and it's still a refrigerator in here and the windows are sealed shut), and the kids are arguing about something inane in the next room.  Today I feel as though home is like a Barbie accessory--that camper vehicle that I always saw in commercials.  Everything fits into the box-shaped vehicle neatly, and when you open it up everything your dolls need is there inside to be unpacked--the mod furniture, kitchen supplies, even a mobile shower with the necessarily hot-pink shower curtain.  For now, I've carried the things I need to be home with me, and I'm unpacking them piece by piece.