It was a surprisingly smooth transition as far as just me and her go. I'm actually really enjoying it for now. Besides having a full-time chef living with me (those packs of noodles I brought with me from the Treehouse might be be sitting on top of the cabinet for quite some time), there is a very good reason I'm finishing this post later than I planned.
She says we can't talk about that, tho.
Anyway, the difficulties of getting used to this new living arrangement have nothing to do with my tag-team partner...it's everything else. I've been pretty good about all this. I didn't even complain when on day 2 she installed prissy little decorative shower rings that people would ask very direct questions about if a chick didn't live here. (I was, however, impressed at the makeshift ones she was able to fashion out of the drawstring in a new trash bag for day 1.)
I think I've been a good sport about this whole little moving game, I feel I have the right to complain a little.
For one, I forgot how much of an absolute certified bastard moving is. If you want to have a fun Saturday, do anything but carry all of the heaviest shit two people own up multiple flights of stairs. (I wonder where all the feminists go when it's moving time. Where are the equal rights activists when a 120lb solid oak dresser needs to be carried 30 feet above the surface of the earth one stair at a time?)
Also, for all the wonderful shit about this new base of operations like the functioning heat, alarm system, and keypad entry that makes me feel like I'm entering somebody's secret rooftop lair every time I come home there is definitely a drawback or two. The main one is the water "pressure", which is a strong word for it. I might get a better shower with a Super Soaker.
The fact that I didn't have the internet for about a week also hurt my umf posting. That's right...didn't have the internet. Let that horrific concept sink in. In 2k13, that's almost like not having hot water, especially for a guy who is himself professionally on the internet to make a living.
Hell, if you really want the truth, I'm not even finished unpacking. My office is still forming and kind of dangerous with all the random unplaced wires I have to have around to power electronics and trip people until my desk comes. (Funny story about that, UPS managed to lose a 93lb blue desk in transit. I estimate I'll have another next week, which would be pretty cool if I didn't order it on the 1st. What can brown do for you?) For now, it's less the world of creativity I planned and more a young Earth, permitting only the basics of life and full of things that can kill you. That part's not all bad, it sets a good precedent to keep baby DX out of here long-term.
I'm also getting dressed out of the trash bags I brought my wardrobe of high couture here in. That's mostly because I haven't reassembled the rack they used to hang on. Shannon reminds me of this each day. Besides being too busy unfucking the various minor glitches that come with living in a new place, I'm more interested in another rack...but she says we can't talk about that either.
Overall, the move-in process has been an interesting procedure, if an utter bitch at times. Sure, they're first world problems, but it's the only world I know. When people complain about the ozone layer disappearing, nobody says they're bitching about 3rd planet problems, so fuck you. Eventually, I know we'll work most of the kinks out of our deluxe apartment in the sky. Hey, until then at least I like my roommate. That's more than a lot of people can say.