Moving Sucks. It sucks. The only good thing about it is I’m not in my old apartment, surrounded by psychotic people.
I am, however, covered in bruises (I really need to take more iron, that’s a whole nother topic), I’m sore, I’m achy, I have things in boxes still, it takes me forever to get ready now because I’m not used to where everything is, and I’m using a sheet instead of a curtain because I’m waiting for my friend to come and put up my stuff.
Yea, I’m sure I can do it myself, but that’s what men are for.
In any event, I’m sleeping better now then I have in 3 years. And my cat is just in love with her new home, she hasn’t purred this much in forever.
My old landlord, however, is still bat-sh!t-insane. She called my OLD housemate up the other day because I wasn’t calling her back (mind you, she had left a voicemail with a phone number that doesn’t belong to me anymore). We had one last discussion about how she is insane, and we went our separate ways. Hopefully our paths don’t cross again. My poor friend that still lives on that block got into it with Danny DeVito the other day, throwing coffee at him.
I’m glad I’m gone, that’s fo’sho.