Apartment

After 24 years and 23 days, I have finally moved out of my parents' house.

Well, almost. I've left my baseball card collection in my closet, and a globe with "USSR" splayed across one hemisphere, and a rabbit tam, and a couple of other odds and ends, but 99% of my belongings, plus a few items I've, ahem, borrowed for the next few days are now in an apartment two miles down the road.

I've got to say, it's damned strange to be here. I'm in a two bed/one bath unit, so I have a bedroom, plus a "study", which is mostly holding Tupperware boxes filled with my accumulated library at the moment. That, and my desk, and a clothes hamper. I've yet to hang my diplomas, and I forgot to bring a lightbulb for the one lamp I have for the study, but my tackboard is up and better organized than it's been in ages, and the cable includes BBC America, so all is well for the time being.

I'm sore in places I'd truly forgotten about, like the little muscles in the forearms and lower legs. I've acquired an interesting set of bruises that coordinates well with the fading welts from my allergy test last Wednesday. (As it turns out, I'm allergic to all tree and grass pollen, all molds, almonds, cats, and - big surprise - dogs. The border collie still jumps on my bed, since I've somewhat acclimated to having her around. While I'm glad to have had the test, since the doctor can now begin the allergy shots, I'm a tad annoyed at how long it's taken the welts to go away. Being pasty doesn't help matters, I suppose.)

This weekend has been anything but restful. Since I built up a few hours at work earlier in the week, I was able to take Friday afternoon off to sign the papers and begin moving my stuff. My mother being in Virginia with my sister, I was able to borrow the Mercedes to ferry boxes, since my Cooper holds exactly two full-sized people and Brandon. (Sorry for sticking you in the back seat, Brandon.) The car's cute, but instead of a trunk, it offers a subtle nod to the idea that trunks usually come standard on vehicles, much like its subtle nod to the idea of back seats. Anyway, I made four trips over to my new place, during which time I grew to loathe the idea of being on the third floor.

There are 33 stairs between the sidewalk and my floor. I have no idea how many times I've walked them this weekend. I do know, however, that I have way too much crap for one person, and that 63 pairs of shoes may be slightly excessive. (I can't help it that my foot stopped growing early, can I?)

Once the initial schlepping was past, I hurried over early Saturday morning - 6:30, to be exact - so the Rooms to Go crew could move in my living room and bedroom. I still have no idea how those poor guys managed to get everything up here, but they deserve more than whatever they're making for being put through my move-in. That finished, I returned home, and my dad and I met a friend with a truck, who had graciously offered to come by and help me lug my furniture. As it turned out, "my furniture" included the aforementioned desk and its bookshelf, a tall chest, a hope chest, a wicker chest, and God knows how many boxes of books (I'd count them, but as I said, I don't have a lightbulb in here at the moment.) He and my dad did most of the heavy lifting - I make Dad nervous - and then I was left alone to begin the unpacking and the assembling of end tables.

Sunday, I slept in until 8, then began ferrying my clothes over. This took two trips in the Mercedes. The shoes took a separate trip, and they more than filled the trunk. So I like boots. Sue me.

By today, I'd completed most of the heavy moving (with the exception of the last remaining box of books), and so Mom took me to Target to complete my list - "little things" like pillows, cleaners, and groceries. We went to Pier 1 to find a couple of lamps for my living room, then wandered next door to Kirkland's and found a boxed set for my dresser for under $30. Once I dropped Mom off, I braved Wal-Mart in search of a co-ax cable and candles, and managed to get several of my Scotland pictures blown up and framed. I did receive bad news, however - two pictures I bought in Scotland, matted but unframed, are 9x9 and 10x12. Anyone know where to buy oddly-shaped frames?

I have yet to complete the unpacking, or to hang my tapestry and sword, but the air conditioning is functional and the dining room is scheduled to arrive next Saturday. In the meantime, I'm thinking it'll be nice to give my new bed a try. God knows I could use the rest before work tomorrow.