Thoughts at two weeks.

How do normal people move to a new state having regular jobs? I’m exceptionally lucky that I can make my own hours around all the mundane crap I need to do while AB is, well, already living in Pittsburgh because all-holy-hell would break loose worse than it is, as I would have no time to do any of this shit otherwise. Let alone stress out about aforementioned shit.

I haven’t had to take any Xanax yet. So, there’s that. But it doesn’t mean that I have handled this transition in the most non-bitchiest manner possible. Just ask the boyfriend.

Our movers are finally scheduled (on now the right date… don’t even get me started on that process), our going away party under contract (lame as I find this), hotel (with cat) booked, addresses changed (aside from the USPS mail forwarding, given that they cannot yet verify the billing addresses of EITHER of zip codes and corresponding debit/credit cards… awesome) and my condo is completely packed and ready for transport.

Meanwhile, our apartment hangs its head in shame as it is still WAY too livable for two people who are moving to Pittsburgh in eleven days (and merely a week away from actual keys) and gosh-darn-it, the boxes want to be PACKED AND MOVED already. At least those boxes exist — many of them still folded against the wall, the others a makeshift kitty condo — and stand ready for destruction by Rudy and his massacre claws at 4 am. Every. Single. Morning.

But I am certainly enjoying my final weeks in the Cleve, including a handful of work projects to complete before I take an entire week off from business responsibilities (I mean, my server and internet will be down for at minimum 3 days, so… seems like a good call). Dinners with family and friends. Day drinking. Taco Tuesdays. Roller derby bruising (and training camp this weekend). Networking online with new ‘Burgher peeps and organizations (and soon-to-be IRL). Hide n’ Seek with the cat (man, I hope he likes the view from Pennsylvania windows).

Have I detailed my excitement about STAIRS(!) in my new place? And I mean, IN the actual apartment, not the ten or so floors to climb in the short chance both elevators suck ass simultaneously (thankfully, I’ve already got a bartender tip to use the one on the left as the other is shaky). And I may share residence with a couple local celebs.

Just saying.

That in itself might be enough to propel me into as much excitement as those boxes to get the hell out of here already.

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