Going see eight places this evening. This number probably represents all of my remaining options in this general neighborhood, so here’s hoping one of them works out.
It feels strange to be moving again so soon. Now, each time I come home, I can’t put my purse down on a piece of furniture without thinking, “Oh crap, how do I get the legs to detach from this thing, again? Where did I put all of those pesky IKEA allen wrenches? How many cardboard boxes do I have left?” I go to bed thinking about resurfacing floors, and when I wake up, I comb Etsy looking for art to fill all of my future walls. (I love this rice paper cutting, for what it’s worth.)
I can’t imagine how crazy I’ll be when I’m actually living in the new house, staring at said walls.
I’m not ready. I need window boxes for plants, and a blender, and a new computer desk, and a vacuum, and area rugs, and an air conditioner…
…a set of large, burly moving men, a cabana boy, a butler who looks like Jude Law… (are you sensing where I’m going with this?)-nicole @–>—
I love the idea of having a pool boy with no pool. Maybe I can get a, uh, dangerous wood-burning stove boy, instead? The uniform’s probably not nearly as interesting.