Some people are good at packing and getting organised, some people, as anyone who has ever helped me move know, suck at it.
This time, it was kind of different.
My manager was shocked at how much stuff Tara and I had, I can't say I was that surprised.
Recently, after wavering as to whether or not we should move from our cozy home into the staff apartments at the colossal new centre we were indirectly informed that we had no choice. Our days at the Craft Centre, St, Joseph's house, with our neighbours the Joames and a cast of ladies we have grown to know and love, were up.
If I am writing incoherently and in an incredibly disjointed manner, it's because I have just spent my first night at our new place. It's spacious (unnecessarily so), it's clean (but for the dust and old rotting food left behind by its previous dwellers) and it's fully stocked (but for a few things Tara and I have come to deem essential - drinking glasses, cereal aka any bowls and a holder for a shower head).
Right, so we're here and both Tara and slept HORRIBLY our first night. The best news for me is that there is a full length couch, which I suspect I'll be sleeping on regularly.
The point of this dumb story is that we have moved into a new place. The move wasn't so bad. I haven't unpacked yet. We have a neighbour for the time being in a young woman named Kate who works in the Ottawa office. We have running water and electricity still. We have our stereo and our coffee maker and we have enough floor space for a real dance party or for an aerobics class.
It definitely could be worse...I just wish I'd slept last night.
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