My brother took my sofabed this morning. He came in with three other guys, and, using guy logic, managed to get it down three flights of narrow stairs and out the door with no damage done.
But now I only have one small couch (that really only seats two) in my massive living room. And there are still boxes everywhere.
There also is a tremendous amount of space for me to fill with boxes, however. And now I want to move everything else that we're not taking with us: our kitchen table, my African statue, Andy's arcade machine . . .
My house is so chaotic now and so unlike my little nest of domestic bliss that it was that I just want to get the hell out of there.
You know what I mean.
So life is total chaos right now.
I have just gotten over the gross part of the cold - eight days and four boxes of kleenex later.
But now I am living with THREE boys. My kitchen has turned into a mini-LAN, there are boxes in every room, and video game parts all over my living room table. I have never found it so hard to keep a place tidy.
This is in conjunction with the fact that my ancient washing machine has finally bit the dust. It will fill just fine, but won't agitate or drain. So you're left with stinking, soapy water. It's truly lovely.
This means that we have to transport our laundry by hand about two blocks to where we've parked the car and take it to my parents' so we can do it there (Greg has laundry service - his dad picks it up, takes it home, does it, and delivers it back - I wish). We have to do this manual transportation because my street is still a mire of mud, gravel, holes, and large mechanical equipment. At least I no longer have to climb down a gravel ramp to get off my front path.
And THEN, to top that off, shit has fallen to shit at work - we've lost two employees who were supposed to replace me, and our grooming section is about to turn topsy-turvy. This resulted in my boss begging me to stay on after my official quitting day of July 19th. But I picked that day for a reason, it being Sonia's wedding and everyone I know being in town for it, plus Andy's birthday is on the Monday, not to mention that I will only have something like 9 days between quitting work and leaving and I'd kind of like to be "retired" for a bit . . .
I feel like I swallowed a fuzzy golf ball. And so now I'm going to be sick for all of WestFest, which blows, because it's a lot of work but it's uber-fun.
. . . for a little while, at least.
More photos will be up soon - we were too busy stuffing our faces on really good Australian food at this NIFTY cafe to upload and blog about it.
Things are working out really well.
Went to the MUN registrar's office yesterday to find out if Andy was admitted or not. Turns out that they're still going through his application. However, their reason was that they're evaluating his transfer credits, so I'm taking that to mean that he's in - because if he wasn't they wouldn't even look at transferring credits.
Also went to MCP, the Medical Care Program for Newfoundland. As students or as people married to students, we don't qualify for the program, but we can continue to use our OHIP - provided Andy replaces his old card with a photo ID card. If we have kids in Newfoundland, they will be registered under OHIP as Ontario residents - which is a whole other kettle of fish. So basically we are to continue as we are unless someone tells us different.
We also ran around our new neighbourhood a bit today. The school gym is about five minutes from the front door, as is the child care centre (because you never know what will happen in five years). Also, 0.2km from our house is a little plaza with a dentist, a CIBC, Shoppers, and a grocery store that sells PC products.
So we're pretty much set.
Other than that, the weather's been fantastic up until today when it was cold and dark, so we went to the mall and watched Kung Fu Panda to pass the time, and discovered that native Newfies are very short people. We are relative giants. Andy more so. But most women are about four and a half feet tall . . .
Anyway, at the airport. Just saw our plan land and it's taxiing towards our gate, so I'll close. Andy says hi. Or would if he wasn't reading.
Catch you on the flip.
peaches,
a
Got one.
We saw three apartments this morning. the first was a townhouse, brand new, super nice. $1100. The next was less nice, bungalow, but still nice. $950. The third was one of the sketchiest places I've seen. I wouldn't rent it, but I would buy it and then gut it. It had a lot of potential.
Then we met with Sydney, a lady who emailed me last week to tell me she had a space available.
And we took it. It's right across from campus, it has lovely retro characteristics for it, washer and dryer, and she's thinking of building us a deck. Plus it has a backyard and it means we can have a DOG. Or TWO.
We sign the lease tomorrow.
I always thought I had an accent when talking to people from Ontario. A little flavour from the west coast in the way I flatten my a's and round my o's, and then some hints of the east coast, in the way that I crunch my r's and contract my the's.
But here I sound like I have no inflection at all.
Of course, both Andy and I are the kind of people to pick up an accent quickly, so guaranteed we'll have a little bit of one by the end of the week.
In other news, we are here in St. John's, made it in with no trouble whatsoever.
We did have a tremendous trouble sleeping last night, however, and so are a little tired this morning as we head off to the first of our meetings to see properties.
I also had one of the worst nightmares of my life early this morning.
We had woken up at 430 to discuss how much trouble we were having sleeping, and after Andy fell into a doze I stayed awake until after 6. I'm not sure when I fell asleep then, but that's about when the nightmare started.
See, yesterday, at the Halifax airport, we were walking to a restaurant when we passed this guy who was blatantly staring at me. Not leering staring, just staring like he knew me and wanted to say something. We laughed about it then but later he was in the same group of people waiting at our gate, and the staring continued. I came to the realization that Stare-y McScary was actually a former student of mine, one who had sexually harassed me and then physically intimidated the professor. Anyway, not one of my favourites. I remember him telling me he was from New Brunswick, so it made sense that he was there - the New Brunswick flight was delayed by about four hours and the place was filling up.
We got on our flight to St. John's and I didn't think any more of it until this morning in my dream.
In my dream, Andy and I were hanging out in the hotel room and somebody (Stare-y McScary) made it past the lock on our door. He started haranguing us and toying with us and assaulting us and we couldn't escape him.
Finally, I forced myself out of the dream and let my breathing calm down a bit. I looked at the big clock on the wall of the hotel room, thinking, dear god, it must be almost 8 by NOW!
As I looked at the clock, the hands started spinning and stopped on 12. I heard a deep gong, and realized OH MY GOD I'M STILL DREAMING!
I rolled over to try to wake myself up. I slapped my face, I tried to speak. Nothing. I was trapped in the covers so I started to thrash around, hoping that I would wake up Andy. Nothing. I began to scream.
And THEN I woke up.
And it was only 7.