Home, Sweet Home

Now it’s official. I’m sitting on the couch in my living room, having just watched Gilmore Girls and eaten a not so healthy meal of mac and cheese, tater tots and carrots (don’t worry Dad, I had garlic chicken, rice, and green beans last night), enjoying my new internet connection, soaking in the reality that is adulthood.

A million thanks to J, brother-in-law P, P, A and D for helping me move all of my stuff from the suburbs to downtown, through French doors, up a winding staircase, through a skinny hallway and through an equally skinny doorway into my new place. I left J and brother-in-law P’s house at 8:30 in the morning with everyone following behind shortly thereafter, and by 11:30 I was ordering pizza for everyone. I’d offer these guys’ moving services to everyone, but I don’t think they’d appreciate it, but trust me, they’re fast. After eating the traditional moving day meal of pizza and beer (and seriously, P, what am I supposed to do with the leftover beer, I’m a girl, we don’t drink beer), a long nap, an epic grocery shopping run, and several more evenings of unpacking and scrubbing down floors, I’m settled into my new home.

I made it, folks, and it feels great.