Last week we got all moved in to the new place.
It’s weird. Our friends, Peter and Jessica, used to live here… and now all our stuff is where their stuff used to be. Yesterday, I tied a rope to the garbage can lid in the garage so I could open it without having to go down the stairs… a trick I learned from Peter.
It’s just kinda strange moving into a place where we’ve spent so many hours playing games, talking and building relationships and memories… and now we’re LIVING there.
I’m putting my TV where Peter’s TV used to be, setting up my couch and our computers in the same room where theirs were… I even gave them my recliner several months ago because we didn’t have room for it and it matched their furniture. As it turned out, they wanted to let me have it back when we moved into the place because I loved my recliner and would now have space for it.
Now they’ve moved out and we’ve moved in.
Interestingly enough, Pete and Jess left the recliner for us and when the cleaning people came into the place to “un-Pete and Jess” the place, they saw the recliner and thought, “hey! Free chair!”
We got there and didn’t see the recliner anywhere so the rental office made the cleaning people bring it back.
Now, the recliner’s sittin’ there thinking, “what the? YOU again? I thought I got rid of you the last time! Awwww, man! You gotta be kiddin me! That CAT’S back? Great! That’s all I need. A cat that wigs out over it’s own shadow, jumpin’ off me and leaving its stupid hair all over my arms. Nice.”
Don’t worry, though. The recliner didn’t have too long to complain. We bought a new futon to put in the basement next to it. It’s one of those micro-suede ones with nice, firm cushions. It’s all sleek and cool-lookin.
Recliner: “How YOU doin’?”
Futon: “Um. Hi. It’s frickin’ cold down here, ya know that?”
Recliner: “Tell me about it. Not to worry, though. Sooner or later, they’ll drape a blanket over those fine shoulders of yours. Wanna see something impressive? Check these over-stuffed arms out.”
Futon: “Ew!! Is your stuffing falling out?”
Recliner: “Er… no. That’s cat hair. Hey… I’m a rocker! You wanna rock this place, baby?”
Futon: “What’s that squeaking noise? Is that comeing from you? How OLD are you, anyway?”
Recliner: “Maturity comes with age, honey. There’s a red fur blanket in that box over there that I bet would look just stunning on you!”
Futon: “Ooh! I look great in red!”
Recliner: “I bet you do! You and I make quite an item, ya know?”
Futon: “Sure. My grey micro-suede, your aqua courdoroy with blue speckles, covered it cat hair and pop-corn crumbs… we could really hit it off… not. …Your arm is touching me. The courdoroy is leaving lines in my suede. Back off, or I’ll come down so hard on that lever of yours, you will never recline again.”
Ok… so it’s not a match made in heaven, but I look forward to some good nappin’ ahead.