I moved (most of) my stuff from an apartment to a townhouse this weekend, and while in reality I'm nearly almost done, I felt like this little calico during the entire process. Working my ass off, and not making any progress. I'd also like to find the person who decided that the front door to my new townhouse should be just barely half an inch too narrow to move my sofa through it, which meant the boyfriend and I had to carry the sofa around to the back door, after shoving it through the gate of our little patio which still had a lock on it from the previous occupants. My boyfriend was super excited about this lock. He drove us to the hardware store on our lunch break to buy a small sledgehammer, which he described as "badass" and named Mjolnir, and with which he busted the old lock after a few really enthusiastic but poorly-aimed blows.

After we were finished moving furniture on Saturday, my whole body felt like this:

Also, I've been so fucking busy this last week, prepping for the move but also with some major projects at work, that I didn't have time to talk to my internet service provider about transferring my account until Friday, and it turns out they have to ship me a new wireless router that is compatible with the service offered where my new place is, and so that means I'm without home internet access until later this week. My boyfriend was teasing me about this because he says that I'm an "internet addict," but I'm not, really. There's plenty more for me to do, and if I don't feel like organizing stuff I can always read a book or watch a movie. It's just that the internet is my only connection to you fine people, and the fine people of other online spaces I frequent. That's not nothing. And I keenly feel the burden I have willingly - nay, gladly - undertaken to teach you all about cats.


I'm glad to be moving - as stated in a few other posts, I've been having trouble with one of my neighbors at the other place, and the boyfriend and I needed something bigger anyway. But I didn't realize the effect moving would have on my mind.

I don't struggle with any obsessive/compulsive tendencies or disorders, but as we were dismantling the old apartment it was almost like I was dismantling my mind's organization, and it left me in a state of transient confusion, which is slowly starting to go away after I've started making some semblance of order in the new place. My befuddlement was so bad that when my boyfriend asked me where I wanted to get something to eat, I literally could not think of any places to go - it's not that I was indecisive, it's that I couldn't come up with anything to decide on.


Also, we discovered that the gas had not been turned on for our new place. Which means that the stove burners don't work and the pilot light for our water heater is not lit. Which means that after a loooooooooonnnng day of moving and spaghetti limbs, there were no hot showers to be had.


This, as you might gather, is less than ideal.

Anyway, thanks for listening, and hopefully I'll be back to your regularly-scheduled Caturdays and Wednesday Woofs sooner rather than later.