We're in. Moving a bunch of stuff into a small area can be a bit torturous. If I had OCD, I would have slit my wrists and my ankles by now. If my rear didn’t have a slit I would slit it as well.
The constant moving of stuff from one side of the room to another, clearing a place in the middle to build Ikea wardrobes and entertainment centers and losing your screwdriver every 20 seconds can be hellish. It was twilight-zone creepy how fast I lost things.
However, the finished product of our all-purpose studio apartment has turned out to be my favorite thing since funnel cake at Six Flags.
The rate of bogs shall increase once my nose stops running. One of the walls of our apartment is brick. We discovered half way through the unpacking that it was covered in dirt from the construction. We cleaned it and it seems the task was just too much for my one Claritin D to handle. I have a whopping little cold right now but I shant let that stop me from enjoying this freaking incredible place. So if my sinuses regroup and take the hill and after I finish a few honkin' tasks, (major uploading of software and such) the normal standard rate of 1 blog per hour shall commence.
Until then, know that I am surrounded by the most incredible places to eat and drink a man with over-imaginative taste buds can handle. My tastebuds wake me up every morning like little children on Christmas Morn'. My friend Jack Spalding would be floating around laughing and smiling all day like a darn eating-fool.
For instance, I had a good ole fashioned Tuna Melt for lunch at a little corner of eating-heaven called “Good Enough To Eat.” (It was the only time Amber and I have walked by the place when there wasn’t a huge line.) The tuna was so fresh I expected a man with a peg-leg and an eye-patch to appear at anytime from the kitchen to wink his good eye and nod as I chewed the little square of fresh bread, fresh tomato, real cheese and tuna bliss.
Off to bed mates.