i r teh Kampur Kween no more...

That's right; it's true. I am no longer semi- quasi-homeless.


I sit here tonight surrounded by boxes that contain every piece and bit of my life in some form or fashion. I am excited, yet not, about being able to "arrange" stuff and set up the new place.


Where in the hell did I acquire so much shit? Ok, so most of it is dishes/kitchen stuff (I am a kitchen queen) and pictures, and decorations. But still.


Anyhow... it's kinda cool. it's a 2 bedroom with a garage, washer/dryer hookup, in a decent section of town on FLOOR level! Yay!!!!!!


*sigh*

However, not all is to be celebrated. There WERE a couple casualties.

A drawer from my telephone table that fell onto the ground and was run over by the fella who was helping me in the truck behind, and

every

single

piece

of stone bakeware that I had. *cries* Thank God my sister-in-law sells it; at least I can get it replaced. I can't be too sad; I was unloading my second pickup truck load when my boss called, said he had 2 fellas from the yard and they were coming up to help me get the big pieces of furniture. God love 'em. Then he even bought us all lunch, and later as I was driving home I noticed that my Jeep fuel tank was full. (We had swapped vehicles so I could use the bigger pickup truck to move stuff.) *sniff* I do work for an awesome place, even if they are jerks sometimes.

Anyhow, moving sucks. Just ask my cat. He, too, was traumatized by not just one, but TWO, moves in the last 3 weeks. Fifth Wheel didn't travel well the first time, and the second time he was damn near impossible. I had to chase him through the camper, climb sideways behind the bed and sit there for 20 minutes coaxing him to get close enough I could grab his stupid ass and carry him out to the jeep. Yes, I got clawed. Yes, he howled all the way there. Yes, he hid in the garage for 2 days before he came out to eat. Poor little fella. Now I don't know what to do with him because I'm not supposed to have animals, but he's never been outside and I can't just throw him out, but I don't want to have him put to sleep.

And THEN...

as if being surrounded by half empty boxes, and tracing paths through rooms weren't enough (although I DO have the bathroom done), there is now a hostage in my house.

Question: Who the hell puts a self-cleaner and a lock on a frickin' oven? Don't people clean their own damn ovens anymore???

Let me 'splain: I was hungry. I have frozen quesadillas for a pinch when I'm hungry but pressed for time. I preheated. I put food in oven and pulled the lock bar over... BECAUSE I'VE NEVER USED A SELF-CLEANING OVEN BEFORE, THAT'S WHY!!! My oven is now holding my quesadilla hostage. I can't get it to unlock. Needless to say, I went hungry last night, and today I'm cranky. One cannot have a proper Thanksgiving dinner without baking a turkey. I can only guess what the quesadilla will look like shortly. *bawl* So now, instead of unpacking, I have to fuck around with trying to get this STUPID lock undone so I can use my oven.

I need a husband for this kind of stuff. Benji the ScaleMaster is keeping his eyes open for me. He's my bud (air five.)

CBNHITFEG tells me I'm blonde. Really? Had never noticed *giggles, chews hair, and swings shoulders side-to-side*. Goofball; he's been laughing at me all day. Here's a clue - HELP ME GET MY OVEN UNDONE!!!

I'm ok. I'm safe. I'm thrilled. I'm way behind on my homework. I'm having headaches again, and my head is spinning with all the stuff I have to do. I'm overwhelmed with the encouragement and well-wishes from everyone. It could be worse... ;)

*breathe*

And how was YOUR week?