moving day (III of III)

We’re finally getting settled in. Blake and I recovered from last night’s party pretty well, and after a few more rounds loading up our things, we were finally able to start unpacking. Blake and I unpacked our rooms, and Ams joined us in the evening and helped us knock out the living room and kitchen. Now we’re essentially waiting on the internet to access all the joys available at our fingertips (I have my own TV now, with Netflix!). The three of us kicked in our new place (our = Blake and me) with some LaRosa’s and Eastbound & Down.

This place is pretty decent. Simple and cozy. It’s an apartment, so we don’t need to worry about taking care of the yard, and we have far less to take care of (two people in a five bedroom house was a lot to take care of, but you’d have to talk to Blake for details on that). It’s a 2-3 bedroom (one bedroom, mine, is partitioned from the living room by sliding oak pocket doors). My room has a fireplace and balcony access, Isaac is sporting the bay window, and Blake has the far room with the “walk-in” closet (if you can call it that). The living room’s pretty big, and the kitchen will suit us well. The location is prime, too: lots of cool shops, cafes, and restaurants; we’re a hop away from Rookwood Square, Hyde Park and Oakley. Montgomery Road, riddled with shopping plazas and restaurants, is within walking distance easy (not that I’d ever walk it). It’s nice living in a nice place. Is Norwood nice? It has its spots, but we’re in the better area, surrounded by normal people (read: not ghetto). There are bikers on the roads, for crying out loud, and there are people running for exercise rather than to flee the scene, and the runners look like they know what they’re doing whereas those in my former neighborhood have to hold up their pants while they run (kinda like me; note: get a new belt).

It’s 10:50.

“It’s 11! It’s almost 11!” Blake exclaims.

He thinks it was more like 9:30.

The hours have been flying by, and I’ve gotta work tomorrow.

Ams is about to head home and Blake’s in the chair.

Ams’ pinky is just a nub of a finger.

“Like a finger that got chopped off,” Blake says.

Ams is trying to harness her nub.

And that’s as good a place as any to call it a day.