I have about 40 billion things that need to be washed, and I keep forgetting that I have a washer and dryer. In my place. Like, no more excuses, Goddess. No more, “Aw, hell, my favorite jeans are dirty — I’ll just go buy new ones!”
Of course, perhaps if I’d unstack the boxes from in front of the W/D, maybe I’d actually remember that it’s there. 😉
Unpacking is going so slowly. As I empty the boxes, the lack o’ furniture sort of bugs me. I meant to fit in furniture-shopping this weekend, but I know exactly what I want and where I plan to buy it from, but the closest store location? Not so close. Why can’t you just order online already? So what if it’s uncomfortable — I’m trying to do a color scheme here!
Actually, I am sort of at a loss over color. I was admiring a red microfiber couch/loveseat set. But then I came across a black and gray microfiber set, and I sort of liked it better. Probably because it cost more! 😉
Truth be told, the reason I didn’t get to furniture-shop was because I happened to, oh, meander into an Apple store. And visited the MacBook family. Which will cost more than a stupid couch, of course, but ah, pretty. *swoon* Damn it for fininte resources!!!
What else? Oh yeah, I went out for a Brazilian last night — barbecue, that is.
Pisco dazzled me before the meal with images of succulent meat being brought to us at the table, to our heart’s delight, and that had me salivating as I made the journey to that area. Dear self: Next time? Skip the buffet o’ side dishes. Just wait for the meat.
They give you a wooden thing painted like a stop light — red at the top, yellow in the middle, green at the bottom. When you want to be included in the rounds o’ meat delivery, the green side is up. When you’ve eaten enough that the button on your jeans threatens to blind your dinner companion, the red goes up. I put that indicator thingy in my purse — it’s got to be good for dates! Talking/stop talking. Molesting/no molesting. Hee!
So, what else can I actually talk about? Oh, I know. Farging catty litter. Needed supplies for the girls, and that included a 25-pound thing of litter. Which, as I got it to the lobby of my place, hit the floor when the flimsy handle off of it broke. Yay.
Luckily, I had also bought a new litter box, so I scooped as much up with my hands as I could and had to run for a broom/dustpan to get (most of) the rest. Did I mention I wore a skirt today, as it was 70 degrees in the nation’s capital? My apologies to the neighbors for having to see my ass up in the air, but does the day qualify as a waste of cute gutchies if they at least came in handy?
On a serious note, I ended up hiring movers. I didn’t mention my plans on the blog because, well, I wanted to be safe and sound in my new base camp before I mentioned the transition had occurred. What’s amazing to me is that I had nearly a dozen people offer to help (but I wanted to move on a weekday, so I turned them down. But wow! Great friends!), not to mention those who didn’t realize I already moved and are offering now. I’m a lucky girl, I tell ya, and I’m grateful.
Maybe when there’s furniture, I might actually throw a party. And maybe I’ll invite other people to it! I still have a bottle of Sangiovese that was meant to celebrate my suriviving this ordeal — if I could just figure out which box it’s in, I’d be an even happier girl. …