Fuck the Deposit

I just moved. Well, I'm still moving. One apartment is empty and all that remains is the various stains, nail holes, and carpet marks to show that I was there (just like your mom, oh!) while another is filled to the brim with boxes waiting to be unpacked. And bikes. And three pets. And furniture.

I took a four-day weekend to get myself and my lovely lady moved. It was so not enough. I thought there would be a good amount of time to allow for constant yet leisurely moving activities. I was wrong, so hard. I just got done. And I started Saturday morning. Last night we went to bed at 12:30pm and I actually purchased something from Walmart. That's how bad it was.

And it's not even over! Now comes the unpacking part, which is worse than the packing part in it's own way. You actually have to put shit away instead of being able to throw it all in a box and tape it shut. I just spent twenty minutes stomping around my new place with a knife looking for my work clothes and bike shoes. Luckily I found them.

The new place is cool though. I'm glad we're there but I'm pretty sad about leaving the old place. It had a beautiful view, and it's the first place I lived after moving out here from the desert. I started a new life there. I got sad walking out the door for the last time, that's for sure.

We're so not getting the deposit back. Hell, they might even charge us. I wouldn't be surprised. I don't even care. I'm so tired and sick of moving. My everything hurts, from eyes to feet and all the muscles in between. And I have to be to work in... 8.5 hours. Blah.

House party once the chaos has been tamed. Woot woot.

- David