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Latest Edition

It is a great nuisance. I can’t find anyone in this house to talk to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the latest edition of something or other.-Lord Goring, An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde

We started Move 2005 this weekend. Up early on Saturday, over to the new apartment to sign and initial and initial and sign and initial and initial. We read through the entire lease, which included such gems as ‘how to use a dishwasher’ (hint: don’t use hand soap) and ‘no rocks in the garbage disposal.’ The lease-writing process must go something like this:

  1. Write a one-page paper that outlines how much the tenant will pay and for what term, and what facilities they get in return.
  2. Add in a new page outlining exactly how each party performs the ritualistic dance involved in ending a lease at its normal time.
  3. Add in a new page outlining exactly how each party performs the ritualistic dance involved in ending a lease before it was supposed to end, and how much money the other party gets (lots).
  4. Add a new page stating exactly how the rent is supposed to be paid, because some idiot tried to pay in cheese.
  5. Add a new page describing how to use each appliance in the house because the aforementioned idiot, after you didn’t accept the cheese, tried to store it all in his washing machine.
  6. Add yet another page about how to act in case of an emergency, because the cheese guy– after the washing machine exploded and caught his house on fire– tried to save the remaining cheese and died, thus resulting in a wrongful death suit from Mrs. Cheese.
  7. Add a page enumerating the circumstances upon which you can throw people out, because you needed some way to get rid of Mrs. Cheese.
  8. Sprinkle the document liberally with boxes that must be initialed, so that no one could ever claim that they did not get that page, or that they didn’t read it if they did get it, or that it was covered in baked cheese and so was illegible.

After signing away the next 12 months of our lives, we went to Taco Bell. I have found that the first meal in a new apartment is a momentous occasion, and a large burrito is always a good start.

So, armed with our cheap lunch, we unlocked the door and, despite our earlier assurances to each other to eat before looking, we looked before eating.

We love our new place. It’s big, it’s open, it’s got great storage, it has lots of plugs, it has a washer/dryer set, and it’s generally just kick-ass. Our unit has older cupboards than the model we saw, but that’s fine; our unit was $100 less a month.

So we ate and then began unloading the boxes stuffed to the gills with our precious and not-so-precious possessions. It takes a move to really make you realize how much crap you own, and how many boxes it takes to house all of it. I would never have guessed that we own enough frilly pillows to fill four boxes, but we do. Or that we have enough board games to fill five boxes. Or three boxes of video game consoles and games. And we haven’t even started on the kitchen yet, which is a room full of cupboards full of things that I need to move.

It was during this move (and the subsequent carfulls) that I got a call about which I cannot tell you. (Ooh, foreshadowing).

While I unloaded load after load of boxes, Sonja set to work using the aforementioned washer/dryer set. She is in love with those appliances. If I was not present at the move, she would not have noticed. If I had gotten pinned under a box laden with role playing books and yelped out as my frail physique was crushed under the weight of various GURPS supplements, she would have been blissfully unaware as she populated the washer with our unmentionables.

So, Sonja likes the laundry facilities.

It was supposed to rain this weekend, but instead we got some beautiful Southern California weather that made for a spectacular move-in experience. It wasn’t too hot, but it was nice and sunny and gave the feel that all was well with the world. A slight breeze whipped up whenever we took a break, cooling us down and tossing that new-carpet smell through the rooms of our new place. And when Sunday night drew to a close, we took a walk around the lake on-property and reveled in the utter silence of the place; this is not a college dorm or a stand in for same; this is where we live, and we love it.