I am sitting here at my computer. The past two weeks have come and gone, thank God. My head is still spinning from the last 5 days. You know, I feel like Dorothy in that old farm house, when the tornado sucked it up and threw it to munchkin land?
We may not have landed in munchkin land, but the house seriously looked like a tornado had whipped through. Crap scattered everywhere. At one point, a body would actually be considered lucky to make it through the down stairs area without losing a big toe to ill placed boxes and unsituated furniture.
I honestly have no idea where all the stuff we have came from. I have little recollection of purchasing it at all. It’s like the “Here, Have Loads of Useless Shit”-Fairy came and did a dance at my old place.
We’re in our new place now. *YAY!* And everything seems to be falling into place and setting up nicely. The new hacienda is a rancher with a fully finished basement. It’s huge, and I get lost in it occassionally if the lights are off. The upstairs is 1150 sq. ft. This would be the area designated for children and midgets under the age of, um let’s say 35.
The downstairs area is the same 1150 sq. ft. area, but is set up to be our lair. How cool is that? It has our bedroom, which is plenty big for the bed and furniture. There is a closet that, if I had to, I could easily live in — I think its 12′x14′. Finally, a space big enough for all of my shoes!!!! There is a bathroom that, truth be told, is a sucky little spot and needs to be bigger. There is the den. It’s a huge space that looks half empty even with the furniture in it.
I’ve decided that since I like to have my share of spirited beverages, that we need a bar in the one corner that makes the room so empty. Liven it up a wee bit. Slap some mirrors behind it, a disco ball…. will go great with the existing stripper pole… hahahaha.
The kiddies haven’t really done shit yet since the move. They have social agendas and activities to tend to, don’t ya know. Amanda has put a few things away, but there is no way to walk through her room unless you are ready to take your life into your own hands. The girl has more stuff than I remember seeing before we moved. Her Beta fish has lived on the bathroom counter for days, and is lucky that kitty is feeling so wimpy. Under normal circumstances said fish would have been a kitty snack quicker than a fat kid could snatch the last chocolate chip cookie from the cookie jar.My kitty, Isis, has been severely traumatized by this whole moving of the residence. She has been hiding inside one of the dressers in my bedroom for 3 days now. When she comes out to eat or piss, she does the low crawl. I’ve not seen her walk like the bad-ass she really is since we did the kitty transport on Friday.
Hopefully she’ll realize she is still queen and act as such instead of mopping the floor with her well fed belly.
My grand-booger, Tyler, adjusted very well to the move. He found his room. He seeked out and destroyed. The Hot-Wheel bomb blew up in his room. He came to stay with his Nana and Papa on Saturday night. He did good. He wandered around the house. The upstairs and the downstairs areas both go in a big circle, so he ran circles round and round with his cars.
He did good until bed time.
Now at the old house, he had a baby jail to sleep in because he didn’t have his own room and there was no room for him a bed. So baby jail it was. And he did well in it. But he’s getting to be a big boy and we decided that he’s gotta have a big boy bed at our pad. Ok, so, the boy kisses everybody goodnight and we go off to bed. I figure I’ll lay with him in his new bed until he falls off to sleep. It’s way after his bed time and he’s bushed so it won’t take long for him to drift off, right? Uh, no.
He keeps saying “My bed, Nana.”
I told him, “Yah, baby. This is your big boy bed.”
“No, Nana. My bed.” He says again.
“Show Nana what you want, boy. It’s late and your ass needs to be asleep.”
So, he gets out of the bed, and drags me by my pinkie finger to the livingroom where his baby jail was neatly piled under half a ton of crap. He stands there tugging at it. And it hits me, he needs his lil bed. So, we dig it out and take it in his room. It was like his little security thing. Him needed to have his familiar bed. Him also got away with filling it up with hot wheels and other random toys. He went right to sleep once he was put in it, fists still holding tight to his cars.
My only request in the choice of new house was that it have a functional, user-friendly kitchen. Diva likes to cook, but cooking in a kitchen that is ill-set is nothing short of a pain in the arse. This kitchen whips ass! The only thing I want to change is simple. I want to slap an island right in the middle. There is plenty of room and I want it. I want it! I want it! I want it! I’m about to break Veruca Salt (you know, that little bitch from Willy Wonka) if I don’t get my island!
We are trying to adjust to having a shower the size of a broom closet in the bathroom in our private, adult only lair. Tony’s a big boy. He’s tall and he’s big. Which means he feels super confined in this thing. He’s actually come out of it fighting mad a couple of times.
My biggest issue is trying to shave my legs in there. Sweet Jesus! I bend over toward the door and I nearly drowned. So I turn around and bend over the other way and I kept knocking the door open with my ass. Something’s gonna have to give there, not sure what or how. Maybe rip the shower out and put a nice, big garden tub in? I vote for that.
All in all, this has been an easy move. The lead up to it sucked a big ass, but now that I’m able to go into cruise mode, it’s not so bad. I’m hoping to have the feeling back in my hands soon. Painting over the eccentric colors I just had to have in the old place proved to be an arm/hand killer.
Hopefully once it’s unpacked and perfecto I can take some pictures of the stripper pole and other noteworthy spots in the house.
