New Apartment – Week One

The process of moving, unpacking, and rearranging our lives has officially assassinated my ability to be timely about Pr0ntober, but I am still determined to have four stories written by the time October expires. Apologies to anyone who has waiting for me to post.

We were pretty packed by Friday, and started the process of moving first thing on Saturday. We had the boys move the heavy stuff and the bigger boxes, then on Sunday we brought over the last of the lighter boxes and cleaned the fuck out of that shitbox. Management was impressed by our determination to get the process done and over with. Now that we’re moved in, every day is one more reason to congratulate ourselves for having gotten here. The place is bigger, the kitchen more functional, the quarters more comfortable, and the overall quality of life has improved exponentially. We look forward to many, many positive memories in this place… until the lease is up and we run for the hills again, anyway.

Having my own bedroom again is a welcomed relief. Sleeping in the living room, and successfully destroying our ability to even ENJOY a living room, was just another pebble to the load on my back telling me I’m a pretty useless roommate. There was something beautiful and satisfying about drawing out the money to pay rent for the first time. Being given a free pass was killing my self-esteem. I’d rather be unable to afford to have fun than feel like I can’t even help keep us afloat. I just wish one of the other shitty jobs I applied to would call me back and give me a chance to make more than bullshit.

This weekend, Daniel and I will finally see each other again. First time in three weeks. It’s been quiet, contained torture. I can’t imagine what it must be like for people whose significant others are deployed to other countries, separated from home and family for so many months at a time. I could not do that. I could not. No amount of my personal strength would be enough to endure that. Clearly, I can’t even take three weeks without feeling the sting. I’m so looking forward to this weekend that I actually volunteered to cook, which I do not like to do, only because I feel like our previous kitchen was assassinating my ability to cook at all. However! I just made myself a perfect little breakfast on the new stove and am now convinced that it was definitely the shitty kitchen, not me. Thus, I am making homemade thick cut French toast, hand-shredded hash browns, eggs, and thick cut bacon for Daniel this weekend. That son of a bitch is gonna love that shit.

Down sides? Of course there are. For one thing, living upstairs means we need to walk more softly, which has been less of a challenge for me than I believe anyone might have expected. Naturally, I put my heels down first when I walk. The instant I cross the threshold of the new apartment, it’s balls down (ha). I will not be the shitty upstairs neighbors who sound like stampeding elephants. Another downside, at least from Jennifer’s perspective, is the reduced room size. I, on the other hand, have always lived in small rooms, and consider my own private space to be a luxury. I bought myself some fantastic black out curtains. I think Daniel is going to be a lot more comfortable sleeping here than he was on my tiny mattress (Jennifer gave me her old one; switched out for a smaller one when we moved in), in the sun-filled living room. Ugh. The last possible con I can think of now (because who can be sad with a private bathroom and a sizable balcony?) is that, now with all the space and the ceramic tile, we sound very loud in here. We may have to buy some area rugs just to muffle our exuberance.

The dogs are happier too, by the way. I think they sense how much happier and more comfortable we are, because they’ve been calm, affectionate, and well behaved for the most part. They sleep with us in our rooms now, have a scenic view of the complex and access to fresh air on the porch, and all the space means they don’t constantly feel like they’re in trouble for being under foot.

This has been a good change.

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About RicoChey

I'm just an unmarried, childless, thirty-something high school dropout with big ideas and a small attention span. Weave drunkenly behind me as I meander through my own life: a winding path of musings on life, relationships, food, the few politics I can stomach discussing, and probably really dumb stuff like the ratio of Sex and the City episodes wherein Carrie does and does not appear to be wearing extensions.
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