I had an idea.
Well, actually, Natasha and I had an idea: Let’s share an apartment/flat/duplex/something!
What were we thinking?
Oh yeah – we thought we would save on rent and utilities; go for walks without having to drive to each other’s place; engage in mini Iron Chef nights; have Star Trek and NCIS marathons; engage in discussions about cat hair; and sit on the patio on a hot summer’s night, watching the flowers grow.
It’s tiring, though. I finally had what I considered a “good night’s sleep,” but it doesn’t preclude the body and mind from aching in spite of the rest. I have had no need to use the stairmaster at the gym this past week.
A major trip to the laundromat being completed, I now face the task of cleaning the oven, sorting through the fridge and freezer and taking another load to the new place. I continue to wonder how I crammed so
much crap many lovely items into such a little space. Am I a pack rat? A hoarder? Do I have a disturbing fetish for clothes and shoes and bright shiny things? I worry just a little if the “kids” will be okay with their new place, even though it offers a better view to numerous birds, sensory experiences of a human kind, and new troubles to find. They continue to look at me with those “what the heck are you doing?” eyes. I keep telling them it’s okay, I’m not sending them back to the shelter.
But I digress. There is work to be done, chores and the remaining
crap lovely items in my apartment to conquer.
So, off I go…
…to slay the moving dragon. I will leave the red dot for Gibbs and Ziva.