(no subject)

[katallison]

Here's the thing: If I tell myself I can't post again until I make *some* attempt to reply to the backlog of comments, I will--uh--probably never post again. /o\ So I'm just (for the time being, at least) going to grovel and plead for a general amnesty in that direction, so that I may use my thimbleful of time and energy to WAVE MY ARMS AND RANT about the OMG state of MASSIVE CHAOS that prevails in my apartment at this point.

To recap: everything was moved in last Thursday, where "moved" = "guys hauled it in and dumped it." Last Friday was my first day at the new job, and crazy-busy, but I intended to spend the weekend unpacking, organizing, and getting everything generally set up.

Instead of which, I spent the weekend making 39675 trips to Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, and Linens 'n' Things, buying stuff like lightbulbs and toilet paper and cutlery drawer-divider thingies, and above all, innumerable storage-y/shelf-y contraptions to put inside of kitchen cupboards so as to maximize the *incredibly* limited storage space. Which--wow, was I spoiled by my former abode. The kitchen footprint here is actually about the same size, but this one has maybe a fourth of the storage; it's not *bad*, mind you, nice and clean and with shiny new appliances, and would be a pefectly fine kitchen for someone who doesn't actually cook much.

So, anyway, I got little done all weekend in the way of actual unpacking, though I did finally get the kitchen set up enough to be useable; and this week has been a time of utter exhaustion and overwhelm, partly from starting the new job, partly because I am majorly sleep-deprived on account of the dickwad who lives in the apt below me running his GODDAMNED television in the bedroom RIGHT below me all FUCKING night long. (I finally bought a fan, and run it all night as a white-noise generator, which does work, but I still sort of want to kill Mr. Downstairs.) All of which meant that I did no unpacking whatsoever all week, instead staggering home from work and collapsing. I have not yet put the bed together, mostly because I can no longer remember how it GOES together, and instead have the mattress and box spring sitting squarely in the middle of the bedroom floor, surrounded on all four sides by heaps of t-shirts, underwear, socks, and sweaters that have been dumped and strewn. My dining table, too, remains disassembled, because the dining room is still too full of boxes to fit another thing in, and hence I have been eating my meals (such as they are, largely featuring chips, string cheese, and beer) off my little deskside table, with my laptop perched alongside.

(Oh, and thank god that someone close by is running an unsecured wireless connection, because I have been having merry hell with Comcast [which, on the scale of predictable phenomena, is like saying the sun comes up in the east and sets in the west].)

My hallway is largely obstructed by the goddamned piece-o-crap ironing board I bought from Target, which I opened up, experimentally, and have been unable to get closed again. I'd turned it upside down to try to fiddle with the mechanism (something's broken in there) and, in a fit of rage, just left it there, lying on its back with its legs in the air like some huge dead cockroach. (Christ only knows how I'm going to get that sucker *back* to Target, short of tying it to the roof of the car.) And I have not unpacked and shelved any of my boxes of books, because I've decided I need to shift the bookcases over to the other side of the room, and I'm not quite strong enough to move them myself over the carpeting, so I need to go to Home Depot at some point and buy a hand truck/dolly (which is, I am firmly convinced, something every single woman needs).

I keep opening boxes up and finding things like: my globe, which no longer fits in its spot on top of the bookshelf on account of how the ceilings are lower here; three dozen crappy old t-shirts which for some reason I was unable to make myself throw away when I moved; a little stuffed animal that my co-workers gave me when I left and which I was also unable to yadda; and the champagne bucket, and the martini shaker, and picnic cooler and galoshes and extension cords and the Roomba and the Cuisinart and decorative little bowls for strewing about with potpourri or some damn thing in them, and napkins and placemats and candleholders and seven different changes of bed linens and SWEET CHRIST WHERE THE HELL AM I GOING TO PUT ALL THIS STUFF??

It is boggling to me that this nice 885-square-foot two-bedroom apartment does not seem NEARLY big enough for all the crap I moved out here with me, and this is after I got RID of about two-thirds of my crap. Thank god I didn't bring my sofa, because the space where the sofa would fit is filled with boxes that are in turn filled with yet MORE stuff that I'm going to have to put someplace.

So -- this shall be my weekend. And it is supposed to be 90 degrees tomorrow, which is the kind of nonsense I moved here to get AWAY from. (*sigh*)

I should add that, despite all this ranting, I do really like the apartment, and I shall soon take and post some photos of the amazing views from here on my hilltop. And I want at some point to write up the post of Oh my god, my new job is so incredibly, marvellously wonderful that I hardly know how to talk about it. Basically, I am indeed the most ridiculously lucky and blessed person on the planet (a fact which I shall no doubt appreciate more fully when I can figure out which pile my clean underwear is in...)

Comments

[umbo.livejournal.com]

Sounds to me like you're doing awesome--seriously, that cross-country move stuff is hard, even if the moving your stuff part has been kind of time-delayed.

*hugs*

[namastenancy.livejournal.com]

You are hereby granted full and complete amnesty, at least from this reader. I can fully understand the chaos of moving while sparing a chuckle for the irony of a huge heat wave hitting Seattle (and SF) which you moved from Minnesota to get away from.
As far as space and noise go - well, unfortunately we have more than our share of apartments with limited space and neighbors with no manners. I've got one above me that I call Junior Jackass; he's the landlord's son, fancies himself a DJ and "treats" the street to loud rap and his drunken friends every weekend. I just wish I could get my neighbors behind my attempts to shut him but but they are not supportive. Good luck on all fronts; the fan does work as I use one myself. Actually, I use two fans and a sound soother which almost (but not quite) blocks out the damn music.

[aerye.livejournal.com]

I am so excited for you!

[copracat]

Oh... the boxes. It gets easier when they are all gone, it really does. Your belongings will make more sense out of boxes.

[mlyn.livejournal.com]

Moving is indeed a special hell, and I'm sorry you're in it. Where are you living now??

I feel you on the ironing board. I always needed my mom to collapse hers whenever I used it. And, um, I'm not that mechanically retarded! Sheesh. it's like a conspiracy of ironing-board-makers.

[vickita.livejournal.com]

Back, many years ago, when I moved from L.A. to Oregon, a friend gave me a card that had a drawing of a man and woman on the front. They are digging through boxes, and the man says to the woman, "Have you seen the spatula?" The caption reads, "May you find warmth and joy in your new home." And then on the inside it said, "Because you won't be finding anything else for a while."

Heh.

[akite.livejournal.com]

Too bad brooklinegirl lives all the way across the country, it looks like you could use her mad organizing skilz. I grant you full amnesty from replying to this or any of the comments I've left. You've got enough to do.

[theodosia.livejournal.com]

Would it be possible to switch bedrooms (more labor I know) so that you're not below the TV-watching guy?

[brooklinegirl.livejournal.com]

*flails* omg, Kat, I was GIDDY about this entry ("That sounds like so much FUN," I declared to Liz, who looked at me askance) - you have a whole new PLACE TO SET UP and seriously, if I lived within two STATES of you, even, I would come and spend a day and organize the CRAP out of your place and then we would have beers and pat ourselves on the back for a long time.

but! you can do it! and the ironing board on its back like a dead cockroach is just a splendid mental image.

and now I want to go buy a handtruck.

*loves*

[the-shoshanna.livejournal.com]

I absolutely absolve you from any guilt about answering my comments! Organizing is hard.

On the other hand, I love finding ways to cleverly use space, and I consider a browse through the Container Store catalog to be as good as porn! Here's hoping you can find ways to enjoy the process, and I know you will enjoy the end result! Even if it feels like it's going to take forever to get there.

[gwyn-r.livejournal.com]

Hey, you were such a huge help to me when I had to move all the crap out of the kitchen and living room for the remodel that I would be happy to lend my meager organizational skills helping you get more set up. Really. I love going for long drives, and I know that area, so it wouldn't be difficult. Also, I can help you move the heavy stuff, though I hear you on the dolly cart. Why don't I have one? I should have gotten one a long time ago...

[heresluck]

I wish I could wave a magic wand and organize your stuff from afar... though come to think of it, if I had such a magic wand, I would be using it to clean up my office at school, about which the less said the better. Eeek.

Anyhow. Yay new apartment, even filled with boxes of crap; you WILL get it all sorted and start to feel settled.

(New job! New life! Yay!)

[blacksquirrel.livejournal.com]

Glad to get the update - thanks for checking in :)