Show me the way to go home....

I totally had a not so little drink about a few minutes, as well as an hour ago, and it's gone straight to my head.

I've spent the past three days moving. I went from my shithole of a duplex (where I was living alone, if you don't count my giant dog) to a glorious house that's about 6 miles away.

I'm so cliche that this is it. I officially fucking hate moving.

First of all, how do houses (or apartments, or whatever) manage to get so full without your knowing? I feel like my apartment spent the four years I was there finding random shit, and pulling it into closets, nooks, crannies, and cupboards. Once I started actually inspecting the contents of the ENTIRE APARTMENT much closer than usual, I realized that there was just no other explanation.

I imagine it went something like this:
I leave for work, or some other random, out-of-the-apartment activity.

Living Room: "HAHAHA!!! Now she's gone! I can do whatever I want!!! Where is that stack of 15 Vanity Fair magazines her parents saved for her? They'll look great hidden behind the coats in the front closet."

Bedroom: "SAVE SOME FOR ME! I have a closet too, you know. And I can only tangle so many hangers on the floor of it until I need to add some other dynamic to the whole scene."

Kitchen: "You guys think you're cool? I managed to bust the bulb in my fridge, and shove the bag of bell peppers to the far back, bottom shelf! Not only that, but I've been encouraging the fridge to make horrible, barky sounds in the middle of the night, just to add insult to injury!"

Living Room: "Dude, come on. I have an entire SOFA here to shove shit under."

Bedroom: "Yeah?! Well, she keeps all her clothes here! I have t-shirts that she hasn't even SEEN for over TWO YEARS!"

Bathroom: "I managed to roll a couple Q-tips off of the sink."

Living Room, Kitchen, and Bedroom: "Oh, SHUT UP Bathroom! You're such a pill! Go spread some toothpaste on the mirror, you loser."

After four years of that shit, it's no wonder that I had so much miscellaneous crap in all corners of the place.

I'm so over moving.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

There are currently three furbabies residing in my small, one bedroom duplex. Lucy is, of course, bored and mildly annoyed by the fact that we now have two kittens. I'm thrilled, though. They're adorable.

I promised my sister, Mara, that I would get her a kitten for her birthday. I know, that's kind of a dick move to promise something like that without first talking with the parental units. But c'est la vie. Plus, I like to think that if Mara were the older sibling, she'd get me a kitten for my birthday. Right? My logic was basically, "If I don't ask my parents if I can get my sister a kitten, they can't say no! Brilliant!"

Upon meeting the potential new kitten, I realized that the only thing better than one kitten is two kittens. So I scooped them up and brought them home. I'm currently calling them Louis-Cat and Jizanthapus. The names are from a bit done by Louis C.K. about a kid he knows, and it's very funny and all, but it's also really fun to say "Jizanthapus".

Seeing as Mara is going to be in NYC for a while, I'm thinking I'll bring the kittens over sometime after she gets back, so she can pick one. I hope it works out. And if it doesn't, that's okay, too. Jizanthapus and Louie-Cat can just stay with me, and continue harassing Lucy. 

Jizanthapus is asleep on Lucy, and LouieCat is on the giraffe blanket. 

In other news, I'll be moving soon. I'm very excited about it, actually. Ida, T-Rev, Izzy and I are all getting a house together. It's going to be lovely to have people around. Lucy is excited, too, I'm sure. And Izzy keeps telling people that she's getting two kitties and a puppy (Louie-Cat, Jizanthapus, and Lucy) at the new house.

To be quite honest, though, I'm probably most excited to have a washer and dryer. And a dishwasher. And more square footage than I know what to do with. And my best friend like 1 door over. And cheaper rent. 

Yeah, I'm pretty much excited by all of it. 

Ta-ta!

Upcoming blogs from Slagathor include:

-Packing My Apartment is Like Packing Up a TARDIS

-My Ankle is Killing Me, so Why Don't U-Haul It

and

-Which Smoke Detector at the New House is Dying