mystery bruises.

I didn't want to post today, but I'm silly. This blog is all about moving and I did it! Move that is. My new home is perfect. Sizable and oh so exciting for its decorating possibility. My walls are painted a really neutral peach color with white baseboards and off white closet doors. I refuse to take any pictures until I've completely unpacked everything but my books and hung my pictures. I have put everything away except my arts and crafts stuff, which I have too much of and need to purge like a bitch.

As for the move itself. It went really smoothly. I had my lovely boyfriend and fantastic best friend come over around ten and keep me sane. My brother and his 3 friends did the actual moving of the large items. With Boyfriend and Partner in Crime to help we managed to make the move go a lot smoother than if it was just my brother and my mother. We came up with the original idea to stick the heavy items on a blanket and drag them around on the hardwood floors so it wasn't so difficult to lift everything. It also allowed us greater access to seeing how things fit in rooms and didn't scratch the floor. I kept the movement of boxes and things to a maximum by sticking things that belonged in each room in their respective rooms. It gave us so much more space. I kept my clothes in their drawers. Minus the fact it highlighted my weird phobia about people touching and seeing my underwear, it totally worked. No extra boxes and they stack pretty nicely. Then you can just stick the drawers back into their chest and you have no stray boxes taking up space!

(By the way I looked up phobias and there are no clinical terms for my weird phobia of people touching or looking at my underwear. I hate it. The boyfriend ALWAYS teases me, by getting really close to the discarded underwear near his bed next to my pile of clothes, or covering his eyes and saying "I didn't look! I swear I didn't look at them!" I have since learned to hide my discarded underwear in the pile of clothes.)

I did have two accidents. I ran into the corner of a table while carrying a box. I now have a large bruise the size of Canada on the top of my thigh. Or maybe Wyoming. Maybe even Montana. Maybe all three put together. Either way it hurts like a bitch, and I fell onto the floor in pain. This thrills the boyfriend since he LOVES poking my bruises. This one I have made sure to smack his hands away from. He got in one poke and I howled so loudly in pain he covered my mouth in embarrassment and shame. I have a tiny but dark mystery bruise on my forearm which I have allowed him to poke because he has been such a good sport. I ran into something and cut myself on my foot. It bled for a while and I didn't even bother to clean it since things were so crazy. Mystery injuries are so awkward.

I did a bad thing for my budget. I spent thirty dollars on my credit card and got pretty jewel toned towels and a bathmat. I was so excited to at least have one whole room done. I decided on red, turquoise and a dark orange for the bathroom since its so white and sterile. My brother insisted I stick the orange ikea seahorse light in the bathroom because "its so freaking sweet!" Uh, ok, sir. So I worked around that. I have to get my pin up girls laminated so I can mount them in the bathroom. It gets really steamy so I dont want them to get limp and fall apart. I love them so much! I'd do my whole house with half naked girls if I could.

I am the most unpacked in my house since I had all day Monday to work on my space. The kitchen is in a really awkward stage between unpacked and in shambles. We've been eating pizza for the last three days, because my mother bought all the movers pizza and they didn't eat nearly as much as we thought they were going to. I finally got fed up with it and went to the store after Karate last night. Since we only have my tiny college mini fridge, I had to be frugal for space constraints.

So I started my new decision to eat healthier since my mother and (kinda) my brother are more adventurous eaters than my stepdad was. (I swear the man never ate anything that wasn't frozen or didn't come out of a box. There always had to be a meat, starch and canned veggies. There is nothing grosser than canned green beans! They taste like nast!) When we lived with him we almost had a schedule. There was bbq chicken, pork chops (always way too salty!), roasted chicken (which I will miss forever!), and t-bone steak. Sides consisted of mac n cheese, mashed potatoes, and sometimes a rice a roni. We always had a crappy canned veggie. Thrown into the mix was frozen pizza, Hungry Man tv dinners, meatloaf, bisquick casserole and the stray meat n gravy over rice thing my mother would make on occasion. It got SO OLD. I'm not saying I don't like routine. If it were up to me I'd eat chicken or ham sandwiches with goldfish and fruit for lunch every day, but when it comes to dinner, I'd like something special on occasion! As I said I'll miss his roasted chicken with a passion, but I wont despair for too long, because my mom knows how to make it she just doesn't. Since we have this weird gulch of despair thing going on in our parking area, where if you back up too much you'll fall off and your car will get stuck, I'm going to invest in a Weber and get perfect at roasting a whole chicken so that the meat just slides off the bone. (Sorry to any reading vegetarians. I do love chicken!)

For our tiny fridge till we get a full sized one I got granola bars, yogurt, bananas, peanut butter, apples, milk and juice. I never thought such simple fare could be so good! This weekend I'm going to use Billie Murdoch's fantastic beer bread recipe and christen our new stove, for something other than warming pizza, and fill our Virgin Kitchen with the smell of baking bread. I plan on showing my mom that living with me damn well has more perks than just the sudden friendliness and playfulness of my temperamental cat Ace.

Speaking of Ace, he appears to be adjusting to the move swimmingly. He sleeps under my bed for the time being because he is nervous about the moving noises but he's ventured out quite a lot during the night, damn him. Complete with meows, chirps and chasings of weird dust/lint things. He loves the sound of his claws on the hardwood, a sure sign I need to cut them, likes stretching them out. He's got a lot more energy now that the dogs are not there to harass him, which is a blessing, because I was worried he was depressed, and a curse because he freaking wants to play at the most inconvenient hours! "No Ace! Four am is NOT a good time to chase little plastic balls around the room!" He is enamored of my mother's room and won't leave her alone. Nor will he stop trying to get into the windows he's NOT allowed to get into. So I've had to be vigilant with the spray bottle. Its pretty hilarious to see him run away from the water and tear around a corner only to see him skid because he has no carpet to give him traction on. I have renamed him "the hell beast," after last night and his playing. He did come cuddle with me twice, once around five am and again this morning around nine am. He hasn't done that since the dogs have come. Its a nice change.

Too bad I couldn't sleep well last night. Lame I know.

No Gems today, I'm too sore from karate.