Apartment re-Warming

All summer I've been fantasizing about moving. I've been obsessively scouring Craigslist, looking at apartments that want to rent immediately despite knowing we wouldn't be moving until late October. I couldn't help myself. The idea of imagining our lives in a new abode was too much for me.

I have a bit of an issue with being determinedly future-focused. I blame the American school system. They were constantly drilling into our heads what we were preparing for, what would be coming next. The next unit test, the next grade, the college we'd need good grades to get into, the college visits, the graduations, the so on and so on. THE FUTURE! "Don't forget about the future, kids! It'll be here before you know it." It's ruined me for living in the moment. All I care to do in the moment is entertain what I'll be doing next weekend. Or five years from now. Or when I have grandkids.

Being with Pete, Captain Right Now, has brought this future focused business into sharp relief. And it's sorta pointed out how exhausting it all is. I've been trying to take a break from planning and live more comfortably in the moment.

But apartment dreaming is a tough habit to break. And if you saw the state of our current apartment, you would hardly blame me.

See, there are a few reasons I want to move:
1. This is, has been, and always will be Pete's place. He moved in and established himself, then I came along. Most of the stuff is his. 90% of the furniture arrangement he decided upon. I love it here, but this is more his place than mine.
2. We have way too much goddamned stuff. This is a one-bedroom apartment. Pete is a pack-rat. I am a pack-rat. (Fine, yes, I admit it.) We have fat man in little pants syndrome around these parts.
3. We have no outside space. We have way too few outlets. We have no dishwasher. We have walls made of metal and concrete.

BUT. (Isn't there always a but?)

Last week our refrigerator broke. On a Sunday. It had already been a trying, emotionally exhausting weekend. Now we had to throw away the majority of the contents of our fridge and freezer? Thanks, Universe. Fuck you very much.

After a bunch of hijinks, which included a brief stint of two refrigerators in our small kitchen, we had a brand new fridge. Did you catch that? A BRAND NEW FRIDGE. Never before used. Lacking in any questionable stains or odors. White - not renter's beige.

Well, let me tell you. A new fridge is a game changer.

Pete was never as thrilled about moving as I was. He went along with me, even got a little excited about the prospect, but was never pumped. He hates moving, hates packing, hates getting rid of stuff, blah blah blah. So when he floated the "Well, what if we stayed here? There are so many things we do like about this place..." convo, he was a little surprised at how readily I jumped on the Not Moving bandwagon.

I had a few caveats, of course. I would be happy to stay if we put as much work into our current apartment as we would have put into moving. That means systematically going room by room and clearing things out. Moving stuff around. Re-evaluating every piece of art. Essentially, moving into our own place. Again. Together.

So, we're staying put. But things will be different around here. I think we should set a deadline and plan an Apartment re-Warming party. For May. We've got a lot of work to do.

I am a culinary genius

This week Pete got attacked by some kind of fly by night stomach bug. He woke up and tore out of bed around 4am on Sunday night, dashing to the bathroom. He made it, thankfully. A few rounds of puking followed. Since I happen to be an incredible human being, I hopped up to provide all my patented feel better remedies: a glass of cold water and some gentle back rubbing. We fell back asleep immediately and Pete felt alright on Monday, albeit a little left-over gross and sore-throaty.

Now, I figured this was a fluke. He got a little sick. Maybe something he ate? Except that we ate the same thing. Eh. Oh well. He was doing better already!

Then on Tuesday I was attacked by a similar awake-from-slumber-and-run-for-the-bathroom malady. Evidently Pete's system is more of a delicate flower than mine, because he tossed his cookies and evacuated the bug on Sunday. My iron stomach didn't put up the least complaint, but boy-oh-boy, my lower GI tract was NOT PLEASED!

Oh dear. I just realized I'd planned to write a post about food and began by recounting stories of stomach bugs, puking and poops of doom. Sorry about that.

Anyway, we were feeling a touch under the weather this week and cooking dinner just didn't really happen.

Enter my culinary masterpiece: The Gigantwich. The Gigantwich is a horrifying take on the harmless sandwich. It's a kissing-cousin of the Club Sandwich. The definition of a Gigantwhich is a triple layer sandwich, with both layers comprised of the same elements. This ain't no double-decker PB&J. No siree. The Gigantwich is when you are trying to make two sandwiches, but realize you have only 3 pieces of bread.

There you have it folks. Go forth and enjoy.

Story idea

As I was falling asleep last night I was thinking about a story wherein people's bodies became separated from their souls and they had to do something to get them back. Almost like indentured servitude for souls. The entity who protects people from the soul snatchers is actually the same entity as the soul snatchers! They get you coming and going.

It'd be a hero story with a young girl as the hero. She's not super pretty or super athletic or super anything. She's just a girl. She's a little chubby. She is shy around boys. She has a hard time controlling what comes out of her mouth sometimes. She has no idea that she has what it takes to bring down the entity that has her society firmly in its clutches. She's a reluctant, disbelieving hero. She has heard the legends of "haven't thought of a name for it yet" but she's 14 now and they're for kids. Sure she loved the old stories of triumph when she was little, but that was before (something terrible) happened. She's not quite cynical, but she had to grow up fast and has left childish fantasies behind her.