urban earth mother

While they said I could start moving things in while they're moving stuff out, and even gave me their spare set of keys (the one to the apartment is about to break and needs to be replaced pronto), I am not at all comfortable with this. Especially as the first thing I need to move in is a rug (could you just move all your shit so I can spread this out? thanks) and then furniture. Sure I could start loading some boxes in to the hall closet (which is huge, but not as huge and barren as the one in my dream ), but they still have a few things there too. And I've been in there and it would take me all of 10 minutes to clear out what was left TWO HOURS AGO! And I think they might even be staying the night! Which means I can't get started until noon tomorrow. FUCK FUCK FUCK

I dreamed last night that I was at a crematorium. I was alive, but was supposed to be going in too. At the last minute I backed out of it. Then it swiched to a park and I could hear sirens. The sirens got louder and louder and wouldn't stop, and eventually I reaized I wasn't dreaming the sound. Then I smelled smoke. I sat bolt upright and looked out the bedroom window to see a column of black smoke coming from a couple of blocks away. In the early morning light, you could see sparks above the trees behind which was the fire. The cracking sound of wood being eaten by flames was audible even with the sirens blaring. I haven't gone to see yet who got burned out this morning.

...I might be moving in tonight. As it is, I have to face the fact that this is not going to happen and I'll be doing MUCH more moving on Tuesday than I planned. But they seem to be having a lovely time down there, drinking beer, eating and watching TV. I feel such a Bitch Goddess mode coming on. I want to go down and pack for them and kick them the hell out. However, as they technically have the place until Tuesday, even though they said they would be out by today (not eventually today, but actually actively moving out this weekend (by which I mean yesterday too)), I guess I can't really do anything. Except be really pissed off and happy that the frat boys are leaving. Eventually. Maybe.

New downstairs neighbors are moving in today. Apparently they were a bit too optimistic about getting their couch in and it is now wedged in the doorway. Really wedged. Like they have to climb over the end to get in to the livingroom and under it to get out of the apartment. Unless a doorway sudenly opens up, I think they're going to have to hack it up. *************** Update: The got it out of the doorway and the couch is now on end in the hall next to their apartment. And the guys in 23 are watching sports instead of packing (yes, I am packing today! Just took one more bag of clothes down to the trash and may have to do two trips to the Goodwill).

So everyone who has heard about what my new place looks like with the decorating skills of the guys in it now has rolled their eyes, and sometimes made the occational "frat boy" reference (could it be the pictures of bikini-clad beer models on the walls?). Well, that is not too far off. I told the guy who lives below them that I would be moving in and his first reaction was relief. Apparently the boys are rather noisy, often stomping around. And I saw one of the guys today and he said they opted to forgo packing yesterday in favor of going to a bachelor party. So they're hungover and moving furniture in the heat today. I'm not actual feeling much sympathy for them. They want to get everything out today and then come back tomorrow to clean, but I told them not to bother with the cleaning and that I would do it. I'm getting too antsy and want in NOW.

Too hot to pack. Too daunting to pack too. Wrapped up the CD tower in plastic last night. Hopefully I can manage that on my own (packing the disks just to move the tower and then refill it was not an option), but if not it should go like a breeze with two people. And I now have two people to help me move, so I think that will be enough. I need to measure my dresser and the back stairway sometime today. There's no curve in that stairway so I think if it's wide enough, that's the best bet for getting the furniture down. And it ends practically in front of the door to my new place. Before it got unbearable today I managed to pack a box of hats, one of shoes, one of books (yes, I'm still finding books to pack) and some kitchen stuff, most of which was already in a box, having never been unpacked since I moved to Boston (and why would I unpack a roasting pan? It's not like I cook turkeys any more). I took down the plants and the remaining pictures too.

Took the magnets off the 'fridge last night, including the poetry set that covered the freezer door. Some of those things, like teh sentiments above, have been on since we moved in. The 'fridge looks very lonely and bare now.

Roomie leaves this week. It's finally hitting me that my friend who I have lived with for the past nine years will be going to Texas, only to be seen over the occational school break. I am completely, and utterly depressed.

I just heard random thumping from the apartment I'm moving in to, with comments about a bronken door casing. I just mailed the lease this morning, so I was a bit concerned and asked them what was up. The apratment's fine, but the appolgized for the mess ("We're taking everthing to the dumpster, don't worry." "Worry? You haven't seen my place, dude.") and offered to leave anything I want. The couch I like is, unfortunately, structurally damaged, but they said they'd leave me all the bookcases (small ones) and the stereo. And there are random dressers for all the new clothes I'll buy once I throw my old ones out in the move. Um, not that I'll need more clothes.

Katell sent me the How Britsh are You quiz. Turns out I'm 50% British. Funny, I was expecting more. Maybe it's my not giving a crap about sport(s). Of course being a Harvard person probably bumped thing up with the 300 year old question ;-)

... or I would be inundated with political ads. However, I really do love this Will Ferrell ad from White House West . Enjoy.

Or Why I love The Onion. WASHINGTON, DC—In the interest of national security, President Bush has been asked to stop posting entries on his three-month-old personal web log, acting CIA director John E. McLaughlin said Monday. According to McLaughlin, several recent entries on PrezGeorgeW. typepad.com have compromised military operations, while other posts may have seriously undercut the PR efforts of White House press secretary Scott McClellan. The best part is that some enterprising soul decided to get the address PrezGeorgeW.typepad.com and start up George's Blog.

This time next month, I will be in my new place, downstairs in my current apartment building. I've hardly packed a thing and think I'm in denial of the whole having to move thing. Although having realtors troop through my house should be a good reminder. Saturday, a realtor came in, having not called first. She claimed, upon waking my roommate who was taking a nap in her room (door closed) that she thought we had already moved. Well, the moment she opened the apartment door she would have seen that was not the case and should have promptly shut it and made the call to us. But no, she trouped up the stairs, potential residents in tow and proceeded to barge in on my roommate's nap. Now at this point, you'd think an apology might have been made and they would have left. But no. Instead she decided to show what was behind Door Number 2, the closed bathroom door with the sound of running bathwater coming from behind it. Yes, I was interrupted, NAKED in my bath.