Moving?

Ross and I knew that our lease was coming up for our current apartment. And I really want a new apartment. See how I didn't say "I want to move"? Because I am smarter than that. We move about once a year. And it doesn't get easier. This is well documented on this blog. Maybe I should even consider a new title. Instead of "Petersens Beyond the Sea" it should be, "Petersens Moving Again." Yeah. I like that.

You know what else I like? Box hoarding. At work I am the individual responsible for ordering supplies for our department.

All I see is potential

Which means I get to dispose of boxes and packing supplies. Or shamefully haul it home instead of to the dumpster. Ross will come to pick me up and be like,

"What's that for?"

And instead of angrily being like, "YOU MADE MY LIFE THIS WAY!" I just tell him to not worry about it. So I'm like, moving?



This shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, including myself, but the search for an apartment has been incredibly un-fruitful. Just rotting fruit-full. Being consistently plagued by paste-eating apartment managers has been the most frustrating. We've gone to look at a few places, but it seems nothing is going to pan out. This serious conversation happened.



Part of me is panicking because I already gleefully kissed (what I thought to be) my bus-riding days goodbye. You know the days of missing the bus, or running to the bus in 95 degree heat, or ending up walking home in sandals because the bus drove by. Yeah those days. I thought they were over. As I begin to admit defeat, I find myself gazing into the distance, staring at my bus-misadventure-riddled future thinking....