I am never moving again

I say this every time I move. And I inevitably end up moving again. But Regina better end up liking me as a roommate BECAUSE WE ARE LIVING TOGETHER FOREVER. AND NO I WILL NOT GO ALL SINGLE WHITE FEMALE ON HER. Well. I probably won't. I hope I won't? We'll just have to wait and see.

So moving day went a little lot like this: Movers showed up at Regina's to pick up her crap. Movers came to my house to pick up crap. Movers went to Gay Street WHERE THERE IS NO PARKING and started hauling things up from two blocks away.

Regina mentioned this, and she was totally right - these guys had such great attitudes. There was no grumbling about the parking, there was no exasperated sighs, there was only two guys with cheerful dispositions who totally TCB'ed. They even didn't mind my swearing like a sailor and didn't even bat an eye when I asked if a dead dog was in the blanket they were carrying. (It was half of my hanging clothes which I totally meant to take in my car, but they beat me to it).

Did I mention there was a parade? Well there was. And just about three minutes before the parade started two parking spots opened up right in front of our new building, and I'll be damned if I didn't plunk the two stools I was loading out of the truck right down in them and wait for the guys to bring the truck around. When they found me, I was told that truck moving would occur right after the parade went by and to sit tight and not lose those parking spots.

Then it started to snow. What is Take One For The Team, Alex Trebec. So if anyone saw an unbathed-for-48 hours blonde sitting in the street on a stool wearing a Green Lantern sweatshirt clapping maniacally during last weekend's Mardi Growl parade, that was me. Not demonstrating my love of dogs either. I think hysteria set in about the time it started sleeting.

My sweet Mama came over and made chili for the snowy group of happy helpers too. Well. Chili was eventually made, but it took some serious doing. She offered to make chili and I told her to get sandwiches because lord only knew where a pot was in all the box chaos. She picked through what was left in the pantry and found a cheap old pot that Mr. Smith used as a hat when he dressed as Johnny Appleseed for Halloween one year (HAHAHA my idea, I'm hilarious) and determined she could make chili in it. She was sent with an apartment key to get supplies and came right back when she remembered she forgot the Johnny Appleseed hat. She called right after and told me she lost the key. She made it to the apartment with chili supplies, and no can opener. She made me stop after I stabbed a can of beans for five minutes with a little knife on a wine opener and all it did was make a hole big enough for half a bean to get out of it. I finally found a new neighbor (thank you Matt from the 9th floor) to lend me a can opener, and chili was had by all. But I don't think she knew that the movers were real movers we were paying because she hugged them both when they left HAHAHA my Mama is so sweet.

In any event, moved in we are, and yes, I love it. I love being downtown, I love being close to work, and I love that I am taking the first steps in making a whole new life. It's scary, but it's also exciting. It's cliche, but when the door closed God opened a window. But, as one of my favorite bloggers pointed out so aptly, God must also waste a lot of money on his light bill if he's leaving windows open left and right. Not to mention the door. And what if a squirrel comes in or a bird? I one time had to chase a HUGE cicada out of a dorm room and that was some work, I can't imagine what a bird in the house would do. Oh - and good roommate plan of action in place already: Regina scared of all bugs in the house. I am not, and have been known to kill roaches with my hand when needed. I am scared to death of spiders, Regina is not. So - I'm the bug remover (a fan of catch and release in spite of occasionally killing a roach with my hand) and she's the spider killer (because those mother fuckers are evil and deserve to die).

Where was I? Oh, God and the drafty house. ANYWAY. Point is, I'm learning. Learning to not text Regina ridiculous things that a husband, not a roommate, needs to know (like, "I'm going to move the car now," or "What nights are you home this week?" or "Oh God, I totally blew it up in the bathroom at work.")

I totally never sent that last one to Regina. I erased it before hitting send. See? LEARNING.