Some people HATE moving. Me, I kinda like it. Its almost like a fresh start – and each time I move I say to myself, “Self, you are going to pack your stuff up nicely this time, you’re going to label it, and you’re not going to leave it in boxes for 6 months after you move in”.
Of course, that hasn’t happened – last time I moved I took two days off work to “pack” and I essentially sat on the couch, watching television and drinking beer. When my mom and sister showed up to help, I had moved all of my belongings into the middle of the living room next to a stack of bags. The U-Haul was a friggin disaster, when we opened it in front of my new place, bags came careening out of the back, smashing some of my beloved pint glasses.
In any event, THIS time will be different. I’m even getting boxes – real boxes – from the store. And I have a marker, and tape, and I’m going to start this ish tonight.
Why tonight? Because the new land lord has a creepy crush on me and is letting me move in early (apparently I “brighten his day” over the phone. And he texts me. Texts me! WTH). I’m going to start boxing things up and sneaking them into my car tonight, tomorrow night, etc. in the hopes that I won’t have to spend too much time talking to my current-soon-to-be-ex-a$$hole-landlord.
She’s literally insane, and I might kill her. I told her I was moving to a completely different boro, not across town, so if I ever run into her, I’m just going to pretend I’m my twin, Regina. I don’t have a twin, but maybe she won’t know that.
This weekend will be…interesting. At the very least, I might have some stories to share when it’s all done.