I’m not watching the Super Bowl, because I don’t care. If I had some hot wings and some li’l smokeys, I might be more inclined to give a crap. Instead, my bits of hot dogs in macaroni and cheese and some delicious peanut butter oatmeal cookies are encouraging me in giving a crap about CSI: Miami reruns and unpacking some rogue boxes.
We’ve been in the new place for one week, as of yesterday. Our bedroom is still in need of some unpacking, but my t-shirt collection has already filled the closet. We made a deal tonight that I can keep enough t-shirts to wear one every day for a month. And if I buy any new ones, I have to get rid of old ones. The General has also promised to make me a blanket out of all the t-shirts I feel I have some type of nostalgic connection to. It’s going to be a very large blanket, I’m afraid.
Here are the things I love about this place already:
- Our downstairs neighbors. They don’t complain about Riley crying when we’re gone and they were going to beat the cable guy down today, until they realized that’s who he was and not some stranger that was trying to break into the side of the house.
- My office! We turned the front door foyer into my office, because the stairs are a death trap anyway. There’s only enough room in my office for this fancy IKEA desk, but it works for me! My old desk was too wide by maybe 2 inches, so I sold on Craigslist.
- Stella. The downstairs boys have an 8 month old half lab and half Rottweiler named Stella. Sometimes, when they take her downstairs to do laundry with her, she escapes up our backstairs and pushes the kitchen door open if we don’t have it locked. And suddenly, there’s a dog boxing match going on in the middle of our living room. (Totally happened just now.)
- The 2nd Bedroom. The Boy has his own bedroom. Granted, he’s pretty fun to hang out with anyway, but now he has a place he can call his that doesn’t also happen to be the living room. He loves it and when he’s not here, Riley spends a lot of time laying on his bed wondering when he’s coming back.
- The neighborhood. We’ve heard police sirens twice in the entire week. At the old place, it was almost twice a day, and at least once a week, the cops would be at our building or at the neighbors’ house. Even the lady on the cell phone at Super America, whose conversation went something like: “How many pills you got? You got 30? I’ll give you five dollars a pill!”, seemed a lot less annoying then the dumbasses at our old Super America who wanted to stand in front of the beer cooler for fifteen minutes trying to figure out if they wanted Corona or Bud Light.
- The commute. Less than 10 minutes most days and we haven’t hit traffic once.
I’m working on pictures. I really am! And I’m also trying to get caught up with editing the ones for the multiple 365 Day Projects I’m in the midst of and sorely behind on the uploading of them all.