Well, it's official! Daniel and I have finally moved into our rad new pad. It even has a sweet, 1930's built-in Frigidaire refrigerator that has been re-purposed as a big cabinet. I was hoping to use it as a cheese closet, but Daniel reminded me that we currently have a lot more baking materials than we do cheeses. One day, this will not be the case. One day, I will have so much cheese in my house.
Ironically, less than twenty-four hours after moving, I find myself sleeping once more in my parents' basement. Granted, it is only until Saturday--that's when we load up a big ol' truck and haul all of my crap about 180 miles northerly. However, I still feel a little funny embarking upon the list I am about to embark upon, since the subject of said-list is "moving," and I am currently back where I started. No matter! A list is fun to write, regardless, so write one, I shall.
Reasons that Moving from Daniel's Old Place to Our New One is the Best Thing Ever:
- Midnight Dog Races, courtesy of the upstairs neighbors, will no longer be an issue because WE ARE ON THE TOP FLOOR*. HA.
- We are no longer living on a super busy street with windows that seem to think any sort of insulation (be that noise or heat) is for babies.
- There are no large holes in our ceiling, no dripping walls, and no broken toilet seat covers that jab into your butt.
- I will no longer wake up at 3am to the fascinating conversations (and cigarette smoke) wafting through said-windows from the downstairs neighbors. The last lovely little nugget to wake me up was about how the guy may have been an accessory in vehicular manslaughter and was going to just go pack a bag, to be safe. A quote: "How was I supposed to know she had just killed someone?" Try going back to sleep after that.
- There is a special little nook for my Mary statue! This is important, because I am obsessed with religious iconography, and Catholic things in general.
Mostly, I'm excited for a new beginning. It feels a lot like summer camp right now--like we're two hooligans who, by some clerical error, got put in the nice cabin. But, heck yeah! I love being in the nice cabin. I shan't complain.
*it's only a three-floor building, though, so don't be mislead by my statement and think we're in some chichi fancypants high-rise (note: you will never see us living in a fancypants high-rise). And three floors is good, because there is no elevator--something which sucks a lot when you are moving, but that your legs probably appreciate in the long run.**
**ha! legs... long run... I'm hilarious