I would just like to state, loud and clear, that moving sucks ass and I'm never doing it again. We're going to live in 41 Pleasant St. until the day we die.
HUGE thank yous go out to:
John, for his never-ending patience with me
Heather, Assistant Packer, Chief Direction Giver and Bringer of Sushi
Roommate Michelle, Chief State St. Dog Comforter
"Grandpa" Dave, Friday Dog Watcher
Chris and Mara, Saturday Dog Watchers
John, for not killing me yet (I am NOT the easiest person to deal with when moving)
Heather and Mara (again) for potentially not making me look at boxes for a couple of hours on Sunday while we eat delicious dimsum and possibly go get manicures. The mere possibility is making me giddy with delight.
Now, it is time to (finally) go to sleep so that we can do MORE packing and moving and sweating and cursing tomorrow. UGH.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
New Project: Bottles on a Budget!
As if I don't have enough to do these days, we're starting a new blog. (Well, hopefully "we." I'm trying to convince Roommate Michelle and Le Boyfriend to pitch in.)
I am proud to introduce... Bottles on a Budget! A blog about wines under $20 and beers under $10. We're going to focus on laymen's reviews of wine and beer, and less on the "there were oak undertones, with a hint of lavender and citrus." I'm more of a "Did it taste good? Yes/No." and "Was it affordable?" person, so that's what we're gonna do. We'll probably throw some stuff about New Haven, Connecticut vineyards, food, Connecticut breweries, and local merchants in there, too.
So mosey on over and check out Bottles on a Budget. "Magical beer, magical wine...tasty, delicious and best when it's mine!"
I am proud to introduce... Bottles on a Budget! A blog about wines under $20 and beers under $10. We're going to focus on laymen's reviews of wine and beer, and less on the "there were oak undertones, with a hint of lavender and citrus." I'm more of a "Did it taste good? Yes/No." and "Was it affordable?" person, so that's what we're gonna do. We'll probably throw some stuff about New Haven, Connecticut vineyards, food, Connecticut breweries, and local merchants in there, too.
So mosey on over and check out Bottles on a Budget. "Magical beer, magical wine...tasty, delicious and best when it's mine!"
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Material Girl?
In the process of packing, I have once again come to an uncomfortable conclusion:
I have way too much crap.
Now, I could rationalize it by saying that I am the one bringing a bedroom set, the majority of the kitchen stuff, and the majority of the entertainment system, which of course means that I have a lot of stuff.
But let's face it, I don't need 16 kinds of bowls and 3 teapots.
I could also attempt to excuse myself from the situation with the concept that a lot of this stuff is childhood/college/art projects/whatever, and that they aren't living at my parent's house because my parents live 800 miles away. And that I'm saving my parents some space in their basement. And saving them work when they someday move.
But let's face it, am I ever going to actually display the giant painted ostrich egg from some high school project that I don't even remember the purpose of? (I do remember the class, teacher, and how much goofing off we all did in that class, though.) And what the heck am I actually going to do with all of my notes and papers from college?
Then there's the excuse that I buy things in bulk and on sale, because it's better to have 6 boxes of pasta when they're on sale than buy them one at a time at full price.
But let's face it, that's such a Midwestern mentality: stock up and wait the bad times out. And I a) no longer live in the Midwest and b) have a pretty solid knowledge that my job isn't going anywhere (though I did move departments, but they can't run the Bass Media program without me).
Oh wait! I have all of these collectibles and vintage things and antiques! And I have family heirlooms! And stuff from those years that my grandparents lived in Africa/Turkey/Europe! And it must be kept safe and cherished and maybe some of it is special enough to be displayed!
But let's face it, that's just a socially acceptable form of hoarding.
And don't get me started on the sheer number of books that I have...
I don't know how to deal with the art and the artifacts and the antiques and the pasta and the books and the 16 bowls and 3 teapots at this time. Actually, thinking about reducing my number of possessions is sort of scary. We're programmed to show our worth and personality through the amount and type of stuff that we have. I'm an educated, cultured, 20-something female with many talents, my stuff says. I can put together a kick-ass entertainment system just as easily as I can do some crazy 16th note runs in Bach, but don't forget that I'm a cook and a book worm, too. I can build a Hackintosh and I can sew buttons back on shirts. (I...am...Renaissance Woman!)
So let's face what I can deal with. After the dust settles from the move, I am going to digitize all of the college notes. Scan it in, label it, file it, recycle the paper. That should get rid of some of the stuff I have, without getting rid of the thoughts and ideas and millions of hours I spent agonizing over the lives of dead people in 17th century Italy. Maybe I'll convince Le Boyfriend to do the same, and we'll both get rid of some dead weight.
I have way too much crap.
Now, I could rationalize it by saying that I am the one bringing a bedroom set, the majority of the kitchen stuff, and the majority of the entertainment system, which of course means that I have a lot of stuff.
But let's face it, I don't need 16 kinds of bowls and 3 teapots.
I could also attempt to excuse myself from the situation with the concept that a lot of this stuff is childhood/college/art projects/whatever, and that they aren't living at my parent's house because my parents live 800 miles away. And that I'm saving my parents some space in their basement. And saving them work when they someday move.
But let's face it, am I ever going to actually display the giant painted ostrich egg from some high school project that I don't even remember the purpose of? (I do remember the class, teacher, and how much goofing off we all did in that class, though.) And what the heck am I actually going to do with all of my notes and papers from college?
Then there's the excuse that I buy things in bulk and on sale, because it's better to have 6 boxes of pasta when they're on sale than buy them one at a time at full price.
But let's face it, that's such a Midwestern mentality: stock up and wait the bad times out. And I a) no longer live in the Midwest and b) have a pretty solid knowledge that my job isn't going anywhere (though I did move departments, but they can't run the Bass Media program without me).
Oh wait! I have all of these collectibles and vintage things and antiques! And I have family heirlooms! And stuff from those years that my grandparents lived in Africa/Turkey/Europe! And it must be kept safe and cherished and maybe some of it is special enough to be displayed!
But let's face it, that's just a socially acceptable form of hoarding.
And don't get me started on the sheer number of books that I have...
I don't know how to deal with the art and the artifacts and the antiques and the pasta and the books and the 16 bowls and 3 teapots at this time. Actually, thinking about reducing my number of possessions is sort of scary. We're programmed to show our worth and personality through the amount and type of stuff that we have. I'm an educated, cultured, 20-something female with many talents, my stuff says. I can put together a kick-ass entertainment system just as easily as I can do some crazy 16th note runs in Bach, but don't forget that I'm a cook and a book worm, too. I can build a Hackintosh and I can sew buttons back on shirts. (I...am...Renaissance Woman!)
So let's face what I can deal with. After the dust settles from the move, I am going to digitize all of the college notes. Scan it in, label it, file it, recycle the paper. That should get rid of some of the stuff I have, without getting rid of the thoughts and ideas and millions of hours I spent agonizing over the lives of dead people in 17th century Italy. Maybe I'll convince Le Boyfriend to do the same, and we'll both get rid of some dead weight.
Monday, July 26, 2010
If Walls Could Talk...
If my walls could talk, right now the new ones would be exclaiming about how much of my vocabulary is uncouth and downright awful.
Right now, I'm working on moving from one apartment in New Haven to another. Nothing's wrong with the current apartment; I've spent 16 great months here. I'm moving in with Le Boyfriend, an event which I think my parents are pretending isn't happening and the rest of my social circle wishes was just done already, so I'd stopbitching talking about it.
But in my defense, this is turning into a Nightmare. That's right, with a capital N. We were told that the kitchen would be done before we moved in. Well, we technically move in Aug. 1, but they still haven't laid tile in the kitchen. Which means that there's no cabinetry and no appliances in there, either. In fact, the wooden padding that goes between the tile and the old linoleum isn't finished yet. I know this because I have a key to the apartment already, so that we can move some stuff in before this weekend.
Now, I normally wouldn't be so concerned, but for two issues:
1: The bathroom renovation in my current apartment that was supposed to take 2 weeks to complete took 3.5
2: R, the new tenant taking my room, has a move date of Saturday, that we're trying really hard to accommodate. If the kitchen isn't done, I can't finish moving in. I'm not "living" in a place that I can't even safely store my breakfast cereal and soy milk.
Experience tells me that it may very well take longer than the original estimate, and then I've got a concerned R in the other ear.
R and I had the conversation about how long it would take me to move out my stuff while the landlord was standing there with us in my kitchen. So it's not like he doesn't know of all the concerns/issues. I'm beginning to think that moving in with my grandmother might be a simpler solution. The fact that she lives in Indiana? Minor detail. We'll invent teleportation to get around that problem.
I may have neglected to mention the annoyance of a heat wave. Packing while breathing in what feels like soup is painful. Seriously. Le Boyfriend almost gave himself a case of heat exhaustion on Sunday when we moved the first truckload of stuff over. (I made him sit his ass down and drink half a Gatorade. "You can't 'power through' in this heat. Mostly because I can't 'power through' getting you to the hospital because you're being a stubborn dumb ass," I told him. Guilt: perfect for all those time you need to "help" someone make a decision!)
Moving apartments during the last week of July during a heat wave? Not the best idea ever. Le Boyfriend has been informed that we are never ever ever moving again because I can't deal with the thought of it (he laughed, but agreed).
I'm moving some more stuff tomorrow, with a friend that I helped move several weeks ago. I'm desperately hoping that maybe, maybe the tile will be down on the kitchen floor when I walk in the door?
Well, a girl can dream, right?
Right now, I'm working on moving from one apartment in New Haven to another. Nothing's wrong with the current apartment; I've spent 16 great months here. I'm moving in with Le Boyfriend, an event which I think my parents are pretending isn't happening and the rest of my social circle wishes was just done already, so I'd stop
But in my defense, this is turning into a Nightmare. That's right, with a capital N. We were told that the kitchen would be done before we moved in. Well, we technically move in Aug. 1, but they still haven't laid tile in the kitchen. Which means that there's no cabinetry and no appliances in there, either. In fact, the wooden padding that goes between the tile and the old linoleum isn't finished yet. I know this because I have a key to the apartment already, so that we can move some stuff in before this weekend.
Now, I normally wouldn't be so concerned, but for two issues:
1: The bathroom renovation in my current apartment that was supposed to take 2 weeks to complete took 3.5
2: R, the new tenant taking my room, has a move date of Saturday, that we're trying really hard to accommodate. If the kitchen isn't done, I can't finish moving in. I'm not "living" in a place that I can't even safely store my breakfast cereal and soy milk.
Experience tells me that it may very well take longer than the original estimate, and then I've got a concerned R in the other ear.
R and I had the conversation about how long it would take me to move out my stuff while the landlord was standing there with us in my kitchen. So it's not like he doesn't know of all the concerns/issues. I'm beginning to think that moving in with my grandmother might be a simpler solution. The fact that she lives in Indiana? Minor detail. We'll invent teleportation to get around that problem.
I may have neglected to mention the annoyance of a heat wave. Packing while breathing in what feels like soup is painful. Seriously. Le Boyfriend almost gave himself a case of heat exhaustion on Sunday when we moved the first truckload of stuff over. (I made him sit his ass down and drink half a Gatorade. "You can't 'power through' in this heat. Mostly because I can't 'power through' getting you to the hospital because you're being a stubborn dumb ass," I told him. Guilt: perfect for all those time you need to "help" someone make a decision!)
Moving apartments during the last week of July during a heat wave? Not the best idea ever. Le Boyfriend has been informed that we are never ever ever moving again because I can't deal with the thought of it (he laughed, but agreed).
I'm moving some more stuff tomorrow, with a friend that I helped move several weeks ago. I'm desperately hoping that maybe, maybe the tile will be down on the kitchen floor when I walk in the door?
Well, a girl can dream, right?
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