Those Were the Days

I remember, back in the day, when not only could I move everything in one day, but while The Man was shifting things to and fro I was setting everything up like a madwoman. The house would be completely done, including photos and art on the walls, before sunset.

We've been living here a week as of tomorrow and I have yet to put up anything where there wasn't already a neglected nail. That would be two things, by the way.
We got wild hairs up our butts and started unpacking some boxes that are in what's going to be my study area – the breakfast nook. Charlie has the second bedroom, which includes a serious amount of our junk; Cavan has a sunroom and a bedroom; I get the tiny box off the kitchen. But it'll suit me. All I need now is a very small, simple desk and I'm good to go.

Oh, and those leaning shelves so I can get all the boxes out of that room. Right now there's nothing else in it but the card table left behind by the last residents. It works for the time being, but it's really just taking up space, holding empty boxes as we throw them in there.

I finally hooked up the stereo system, as well, something I never thought I'd be able to live without. Apparently, I can, for six days. Beyond that, though, it's a shame to have such great weather and not be able to turn the speakers toward the window to enjoy the porch and music.

I'm having some new-friend-anxiety. The girl from high school with whom I've recently reconnected is a phone-talker. I'm pretty strictly an email communicator. I like the opportunity it gives me to think about what I want to say before I officially say it. Speaking with people on the phone always feels like a waste of time and money. I'd rather do it face-to-face, though, not that I only ever do it online. So she's made a remark about my “long-ass” emails and now I know I have to suck it up and just give her a ring.
The thing that gets me is that she had a baby one week ago. Maybe it was two weeks ago. Either way, she's got a newborn and she's still finding the time to write me and ask how I'm doing. It makes me feel like such an asshole.

Oh, and speaking of friends, I'm due to have lunch with Jennifer while she's in town. Sunday will be lunch, then I have my barista competition in the evening. Note to self: find out where the meeting is being held. That information would be helpful.

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