Oh, my gosh. Those comments! This: Thank you. Really. From my heart, thank you. Oh, I’m HAPPY. Hey, did I tell you? I have a HOME!
Huge happy sigh.
And now, more pictures! Bethany‘s in town for the weekend (all right, my weekend, since I suppose Tuesday doesn’t usually count as such), and she’s in my tub right now. Surprised? Bathany never misses an opportunity. We’ve been running around all day and I’ve been a grump from HELL. I *love* being in my new place. But I *hate* all that crap and literal dirt that is still left in the old apartment. I used Beth for good ole slave labor today, so she deserves the bath. After she gets out, I’ll jump in and then take her to the airport before I go to work. There’s still junk at the old place, but it’ll get sorted yet, right? Right?
All righty. Here’s moving day:
Yes, that’s the Desk of Doom standing up behind us. The best thing I’ve done in a long time was hiring those movers. They actually got the desk out of the bedroom and into the front yard, where it’s still sitting with a tacky “Free” sign flapping from it in the wind. I couldn’t watch them move it out the front door — I was positive it was going to kill someone.
My first bubble bath:
The tile is real, but kind of dirty looking. They’re 2X2 white tiles with white grout, and some of them are dark with what looks like car grease. I’ve scrubbed with the regular cleansers, and I just bought some industrial peel-the-inside-of-your-nose-off stuff that I’ll try later, when I’ve fully unpacked and feel up to the challenge. That bath, though? Sublime. Really. Insane. The shower? Not so great. I’ve changed the shower head and that helps, but the pressure just isn’t good enough to get a good flow of water. Eh. I like baths better anyway.
Something else I had to be philosophical about was this: I propped up a shelf in the bathroom temporarily and then heard a great crash. It had fallen right on the toilet tank cover and whacked a great chunk of porcelain off the corner. I know it’s fixable, or I could just buy a new cover, but jaiz. I would have liked to have waited more than an hour and a half to break something in my own home.
So then, looking from the bathroom through the living room toward the bedroom:
And out the front windows:
Standing in that spot, the kitchen is to your right. Here’s one shot:
And looking back toward the living room:
The flowers are from Lala. They made me feel much better about the cracked porcelain. And the toilet tank that ran (I fixed it with Paton’s Classic Merino, orange). And the heater that’s off for safety. And the living room windows that don’t open. Lordy. But do you hear me complaining? Nope. You won’t, either. I’m so frikken lucky that I’ve been afforded (used loosely here) this opportunity that if you DO hear me complaining, report me to the Cry Me A River Police. Really. Remind me of this then, okay? (I’m also lucky I have friends like the Dude, who fixed the toilet, my shower, my outside light, and rigged my Tivo to talk to my fabulous new DVD player (also from Lala — tell me I ain’t spoiled to hell).
Goodness! I started this post this afternoon — it’s now almost four in the morning and I still can’t remember half the things I was going to write about. Not even a quarter of them. Random snippets: I’m on the freeway, but semi-trucks aren’t allowed on this section of it, so the traffic only goes whooshwhooshwhoosh soothingly, along with the occasional scream of a motorcycle going by at the speed of light. My next-door neighbor is nice. I don’t like my upstairs neighbor’s boyfriend who parks in my spot. There’s a hibiscus outside my door. I keep getting my junk drawer mixed up with my cutlery drawer. The bedroom gets warm in the afternoon sun. It is quiet. Opening your own door and inviting someone in is infinitely more enjoyable than opening someone else’s door to do the same thing. Plus, some people get annoyed when you just open their doors like that.
Egad, I’m sleepified.
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