Now that the initial rush of believing the apartment to be done has worn off, I am reverting to form and seeing what remains to be done more readily than what has been done already. Imagine my dismay, for instance, on one of the first miserably humid days of summer when I went to measure my window for an air conditioner and found that it had been painted shut, as in a chintzy rental. That can be fixed, and other imperfections can be lived with (and even construed as charming, I keep telling myself), but I don't know how the place will ever get clean. Today Andrew and I made a good stab at the bedroom--sweeping over and over--but dust has accumulated in the deep old grain of the wood. Then we swabbed the floor with gentle wood furniture polish, in hopes of getting up some of the dust and leaving the wood more supple. Above is the dinner we made to reward ourselves: salmon, wild spinach, and pan roasted potatoes. And here is Andrew at work on the floor--see how dusty the unmopped portion is.