Sunday, July 31, 2011

Home Again

After almost nine hours, my pets and I are finally, finally home.  The universe made up for its extreme heat (I was so anxious that the boys were going to get heat stroke in my un-air conditioned car that I needed to call a friend for reassurance.) by giving me a parking spot right in front of the apartment.  This never happens, so you can only imagine my relief when I realized I was not going to have to a) tote everything (dog, cat, luggage, lamp shade, bookcase worth of books) six blocks or more, or b) pay $50 to park the car overnight in a garage.  I very nearly cried tears of gratitude.  Now I'm sitting on the couch, feeling all sorts of overwhelmed.

During my absence, a chair we bought was supposedly delivered "to the front door."  Said chair is nowhere to be found, although, rest assured, its matching ottoman was waiting calmly by the mailboxes.  Whose front door?  Or was it by the mailboxes? If so, it sure isn't there anymore.  To my door on the fourth floor?  Highly unlikely, and also, if so, it sure isn't there now.  The man I called at FedEx was extremely nice as well as supremely unhelpful.  He told me they would ask the delivery man "exactly where he left the chair."  At this point, I'm thinking that wherever he left it, someone decided it was a nice enough chair for them to steal and I'm shit outta luck.  I will be making very annoyed phone calls to FedEx and until I get my chair (That thing wasn't cheap.  More importantly, I was really, really looking forward to sitting in it tonight.)

The apartment is scary-looking.
Before I left to visit my parents, I did laundry and cleaned the bathroom.  That barely scratched the surface.
I'm sitting on a small cleared island on the couch, blogging, mostly because I have no idea where to start.

I think it's starting to sink in that I'm here, alone, for the next few months.  All of this is up to me.
I mailed the rent that is due tomorrow.
I called FedEx.
I unpacked the ottoman.
Can I be done now?
Yes, if you were five.  You're twenty-three.
Oh, right.
I'm an adult, aren't I?
Is there an instruction manual?
Does it come via FedEx?


Margaret said...

Can I be done now?
Yes, if you were five. You're twenty-three.

I love this.

Baby in Broad said...

I don't live alone, but I have a ton of things that are up to me. Or if they're not up to me per se, they're the kind of things that, if I don't do them, don't get done ever.

I've made myself three lists: Do Daily (includes things like make beds and cook dinner), Do One of These Daily (clean the bathroom, mop the kitchen, and so on), and Do As Needed. It's been surprisingly helpful.

I had no idea being an adult required a person to be so friggin' organized!

~ Noelle

Cait said...

Noelle, I love this idea. I definitely am a fan of lists and they help me immensely. I think I'll try your three list idea and see how it goes!

(Margaret - can't we just all be 5 again? For a day?)