I am never moving again.  End of story.   How my dad and I fit all of my belongings into one vanload when I moved in last year is a complete mystery to me. 

I got off work at 6pm on Monday, and my roommate promptly started loading up her boyfriend’s pickup truck with our stuff.  We are still nowhere near finished.  Yes, everything is technically “moved”, and I officially closed the door on that swamp of an apartment Tuesday at noon.  But this house isn’t exactly liveable, yet.  The gas isn’t turned on yet so there’s no hot water.  No internet.  No living room furniture, tv, groceries…My bed isn’t assembled, so I’ve been crashing on a bare mattress on the floor for about 5 days now.  The closets here are comically small, so all I’ve done up to this point is look at my heaping mounds of clothing and sigh.  Don’t know when the creative solution to that problem will dawn on me.  Everything I own is basically still in disorderly piles in the living room, the kitchen is a total disaster, but hey at least we have laundry!

I am living like a vagabond.  And all of my friends are in the same boat.  For these past few days, everyone’s been in a weird transitory state and there’s nowhere to really “chill” because everyone’s place is in a similar state of chaos. 

Point is, all I’ve done in the last few days is intense manual labor.  Nonstop.  I have all kinds of awkward bruises and scrapes from maneuvering cheap furniture around tight corners, boxsprings up three flights of stairs… 

However, all the hard work paid off?  And once everything finally is finished, it’s going to be amazing.  This house is beautiful.  I went from living with 4 people in a 3-person apartment to living with 3 people in a 4-person house.  Big big big change.  Lots of room.  Lots of rooms.  It’s so lovely.  Big windows and hardwood floors.  Balcony and porch and patch of grass outside.  Stairs to run up and down.  Laundry.  Air conditioning! 

Finally, home sweet home.