Greetings from the McDonald’s near our new place! Excuse a whiny American for a moment, but we still won’t have internet for two weeks. The horror! The HORROR! And my watercolors ran away with my sanity. It’s about to get real interesting here. But nothing pumps me up in the morning better than a McCappuccino and a hair whipping response to Carly Rae Jepsen. And that Bruno Mars sings with such conviction! I’m lovin’ iiii..nevermind.
Allez, must seize the day! Drawer organizers must be ordered and door handles must be handled.
We are finally moving into our new place today! Since we’ve been packing for nearly a month now, our life has been scattered into unfindable fragments. Note: food styling tweezers don’t do a thing for eyebrows. Anyway, the shell of our old apartment looks like a run down store-front art gallery in Belleville. Too bad we already ate all the canapés.
Helping my husband pack up his life, the only skeleton in his closet is his backbreaking collection of photo books. Needless to say, after a long winter and spring of hachis parmentier and projectfreetv, we definitely made up for lost cardio.
Despite a brutal cold and a metal pipe in the trachea, I am now relishing in the raspy voice of my dreams. If you don’t know me, I have a distinctively high voice. Like “I’m sorry, if your mother home?” kind of high. Let’s just say somewhere between boy soprano and Sarah Jessica Parker on helium. To finally have a voice deeper than my elementary English students is a thrill. But my voice is slowly creeping back. Bummer, no need for that vanity electrolarynx.
So, farewell the grimiest apartment I have ever know. You were also the happiest. You will not be missed, but you will be remembered.
The move into our new apartment has been postponed again. In anticipation, our current place has become an urban development of cardboard boxes. Although it may sound more romantic in writing, the only piece of furniture left in the living room is an ottoman. Luckily, we are still reaping the joys of being newlyweds, as we both happily squeeze on it together when using our computers. I will always accept another excuse to work in bed, too.
Otherwise, the table is long-gone and I am without a workspace. But I have formulated a staircase desk for all of my creative needs: one cardboard box for my computer, one for my watercolors, and another for the still life and/or snack of the hour. The kitchen is another story. The washing machine/counter came to the end of its life. So any serious chopping requires appetizingly propping a cutting board on the garbage can. Anyone wanna come over for dinner?
Admittedly, it has not been too bad. Fewer plates means fewer to clean. And I have ignorantly stashed away my banking paperwork into an unfindable box for the time being. For the past four years, I have been living out of my suitcase. And although it is that way at the moment, I am grateful that it is only temporary.
