Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

[slipjig3]

More moving.
All the IKEA ever has been assembled, including the bookshelves.
Three more SUV-loads hauled over from Praxis to Sven Inga Byxor.
Books, mine and figmentj's, sorted and shelved, four bookcases' worth.
Games, ditto.
Kitchen organized to the letter.
Absolutely everything cleaned from stem to stern.
Laundry done.
Brain cells killed by the hundredweight.

figmentj has been working like an absolute fiend. Ditto wired_lizard. I feel like a slacker in comparison, even though I have barely stopped my forward motion for the last three days.

Last night was especially fascinating, in medical terms: both figmentj and I had managed to work ourselves to a point when physical motion hurt. Yes, all of it. It had devolved into a tragicomedy that went something like this: [flex finger] "Ow." [flex another finger] "Oww..." [display enough stupidity to try the wrist] "JESUS FUCK WHY DOES THE WORLD HATE MEEE?!" At one point I made the mistake of trying to stand up after five minutes of lying in bed; I swore in languages I don't even know and crumpled to the floor while hallucinating angels in the room, whom I tried to punch in the face. Lesson learned.

It was all worth it, though. This place is feeling so much like home already it makes me dizzy. Around lunchtime we settled in with sandwiches and yogurt and Pepsi on ice as a thunderstorm came roaring in, and I sank into the moment like so many blankets and downright purred at the feeling. Perfect doesn't even begin to describe. (And did I tell you about our bed? We have an amazing bed. Let me tell you about it sometime.)

Comments

[mac-arthur-park.livejournal.com]

Good luck with the move!

And if you find my wallet in your stuff, let me know. Hey, wormholes happen.