The moving process is nearing an end … for me, my roomie, Kiné, won’t be arriving till the sixteenth. I’m actually glad that we arrived at different times. Moving two girls worth of stuff at the same time would be chaotic. This way I can get settled and then we can rearrange accordingly when she arrives.
I’ve lined my cute but useless tea cups and tea pots along the window pane by the dining area. I say this because the cups are espresso sized, and who wants a sip and a half worth of tea? No one, that’s who. My fifty billion mugs, handful of dishes, cookware, and glorious coffee corner are all organized and awaiting Kiné’s addition. All that’s really left is hanging up the art and figuring out where the TV will go.
I am proud to say that though my apartment is on the third floor, hardly any men assisted me. I drove the truck (it was a standard, I miss driving stick, my automatic old man car is so lame and boring to drive). My mother, thirteen year old brother, Andrew, and sister, Christina, were the ones to help lift all the heavy furniture. Until the end when my sweet grandpa felt bad for not helping (he and I carried the couch and then he set up my piano). Regardless, all in all, this was a women powered extravaganza…plus Andrew, who is an incredibly wimpy kid … slowly his strength is growing, ever so slowly.
I went from a hobbit hole in the basement of an old house that was frequently visited by wolf (or brown?) humongous spiders, had a 6 foot ceiling, and when I moved in was various shades of dirty white with holes all over the walls and ceiling (my mom and I spent at least two weeks fixing it, the new tenant doesn’t know how lucky they are). To being back at my parents. To living in an actual adult apartment.With a nice big living room, dining area, full service kitchen, breakfast bar, and porch.
I’m pretty damn excited.
*Dances with glee*