reason #23987 why moving is worse than riping fingernails off one by one with rusty pliers.

I have three words for you that should strike fear into your heart:

Coin. Operated. Laundry.

Who ever created the idea of having to have a billion and a half quarters just to wash your chonies and shirts and jeans because it's really freaking hot and humid where you (now) live so you have to change your clothes a lot because yes, you are the sweaty kid, should be tarred and feathered.

My stuff is still commuting towards me, which means I don't have my washer and dryer yet, and thus, had to conquer the coin operated laundry.  This adventure began by first having to go in search of where the nearest laundry room was. LOCATED! success. Then the dread hits....quarters. Need quarters. Need cash to get quarters. It's Sunday, so no just going into the bank.

Piling into the hot car, I locate an ATM and pull out some moola, having to pay of course because I haven't transferred all of my funds from my local bank and I didn't want to spend the time looking for one that wouldn't charge me. Flip a U, find a place to get a soda to make small bills. Success! Flip another U and head to the coin operated car wash to, you got it, use their change machine! and vacuum up the cat food and kitty litter that was left in my car from the trip East.

Finally loaded down with quarters I lugged my laundry down stairs and towards the laundry room. Here is where I feel I should mention that the temperature is over 100 and the humidity today? 58%. That laundry room was a hot sweaty beast.

All of that just for some clean underwear. 

I'd say I need a beer, but I'd have to drive out of county to get one and it's just too bloody hot.

Take that Coin Operated Laundry, I defeated yo ass!

academia or bust.

Where to start, where to start. Marathon cleaning session before I moved out of H-town? Check. (Thank GOD for my mom and sister, because I could not have done it without them!)

Cramming as much crap into my car as physically and metaphysically possible? Check. So much so that my car was damn near touching the pavement? Check.

Powered through a 1600 mile trek in about 25-8 hours? Check and check.

The amazing part of this little story is that my cat? turned out to be a rockstar. He cried a bit in the beginning but we settled into a good pace and he settled down. No explosive shits. No ear splitting cries for hours on end. I was amazed. On top of that he actually let me put a collar on him and since we've been in the new place he's been this little center of calm. I think he'll do even better once my stuff arrives.

Speaking of...I want my shit. Like yesterday. Indoor camping was kind of fun at first but now I'm tired of every meal, ever netflix thing, every damn thing taking place on the ground. And of sleeping on an air mattress.  Don't get me wrong, the aerobed is super comfy, but I want my own bed. Right meow. They better show up with my stuff soon or I might be searching the side of the road for some new-to-me items.

Since I rolled into town I've been spending time running around trying to figure things out, buy things, and sleeping to make up for driving for like two days straight. But today was my first day going to campus and meeting the people I'm going to be spending the next two years with, which was pretty flippin sweet. Here's a couple shots I took walking around today. If it hadn't been hot as balls, I'd have explored more, but I was hot, sweaty and hungry, so you get two.

Peace y'all.

Yeah. That's a lake in the middle of campus. Mind blown.

moving saga part 4697: the day my patience and sleep ran off to elope and died in a plane crash on the way there.

Yesterday was the Monday from hell. It crawled up from the bowels of the netherworld and slapped my ass with a big fat "have a nice day sucka".

Marathon packing this weekend I had almost everything ready to go for the movers, but of course to get to that point I went to bed in the wee hours on Monday morning, woke up 4 hours later from shitty sleep, went to work at the butt crack of dawn, ran home to meet my movers when they were supposed to be there.....and waited.....and waited some more.

I waited so long my oven looks like it would on the Sears showroom floor. I even swept underneath it. And then moved on to the freezer. Two hours and change later, they showed up. They worked steadily but it still took them two hours. And I used more space than estimated = more bloody money. Just great. By 1:30 I was hot, hungry, and testy. What will fix that? A quick lunch with the sister, brother and nephew. I get out of my car and reach for my wallet while simultaneously dropping my fucking iphone.

Empty purse. Phone on the pavement.

Wallet on counter from paying second payment of move.

Thankfully, my sister saved the day, I hoovered lunch, ran back to work, worked until close, got my hair cut and then had a wonderful dinner and chat with a friend and mentor. After which I had to return to my empty apartment with my freaked out cat to "blow up" my accommodations for the next few nights and make my bed. Do you know how weird it is to be sleeping in an empty 1400 square foot apartment? It's echoy canyon weird.


I'm so nice and shiny now assholes.

And it's all become real that in 2 days I am headed East. Now that my stuff is gone it definitely means no turning back and it's exciting and strange and a little nerve destroying. I'm anxious to begin and sad to leave.

Hello bittersweet.

i need wine and a xanax immediately.

I have not heard from my moving company.

.

.

They're supposed to be picking my shit up tomorrow! Needless to say I'm freaking out a little bit. I called, they're supposed to call me back soon but wtf?! This is not what I'm paying more money than my liver is worth on the black market for! I was paying for peace of mind.

So while I finish up this last little bit of packing I need copious amounts of wine to deal with the nervousness in my (currently over sized) gut.

Moving blows giant chunks.

Also? My internet goes dark tomorrow. So if you don't hear from me in a couple weeks there are several possibilities:

1. I murdered someone from this damn moving company and am now waiting to serve 50 to life.

2. I've been crushed under my boxes of crap.

3. I gave up on the drive to Texas and ran away to Canada to drive the ice roads.

4. I internally combusted from all the stress and am in bits on the floor.

5. I drank myself into a coma and am in the fetal position in the corner.

I'm going to vote it's most likely going to be number 5.

dun dun duunnnn.

The countdowns have begun. As of today I have 1 week! of work left. Hooray! It's going to suck not getting a decent regular paycheck, but it's also going to be amazing. I'm glad to see that chapter of my life coming to an end. I've learned a lot but I'm SO ready to move on. Bring on unemployment!!

Ok, so I'm not really going to be unemployed. But I'd like to entertain the thought that I'm going to lounge around in my jammies (not my undies, or naked, no naked, naked is just...ew.) and each popcorn and watch movies or read all day. That'd be sweat. Instead the few days here I'll be furiously cleaning my empty apartment, I won't have any cable or internet to distract me, and I'll be hanging out with friends and the fam bam. Then, as of the 30th I'll be driving East with a neurotic old cat in the car who will probably get a serious case of explosive shits which will be SUPER fun to clean out of his kennel because I do not want to spend 24 hours in a car that smells like cat turds.

So 1 week of work (fuck yeah y'all!) and like 9 days until I head east. What the fuck! How did this happen so quickly? I felt like I had ages to get stuff done and whammy, it's here now. My movers are coming Monday so I have to finish my packing spree this weekend and start living camping style. I spent some grad gift certificates on an AeroBed so I actually have a place to sleep until my furniture catches up to me.

I'm exhausted already just thinking about it. And excited. But really exhausted.

This Californian is getting closer to being ready for Texas, but I don't think Texas is going to be ready for this California girl! It's going to be hot as balls when I get there though, so that'll be fun for this sweaty kid.

it's no 31 flavors, but it's a scoop none the less.

Here's the dealio. Things have kind of spun drastically in one direction and then in another in the past week and a half or so and I'm not quite sure all of my organs, limbs, etc. have caught up to today.

If you'd have approached me a week or so ago, I might not have been the most jolly of characters.  After some bloody crushing rejections in the grad school arena and realizations of what was going to be in store, needless to say I was not in the most pleasant of moods. And then? I sent some emails. I got an email back. I had a phone interview. I sent off an application. I got an offer to be a graduate research assistant. I get to pay instate tuition. I get a small living stipend.

I'm moving.

To Texas.

Texas, y'all. Like woah. All in a week. It's funny how things can change in a week. Now I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that not only did I actually manage to get into a grad program but that I'm going to get paid to do my research. And I'm moving. Possibly sooner rather than later. I have the opportunity to get a jump (a paid jump) on my research if I want to head east this summer.

Now, if only Uhaul's or any moving truck really didn't cost over $1,000 to use for out of state, one way travel, things would be looking much better. But for now, I'll just focus on the positive.

Don't mess with Texas.

Moving Officially Sucks

It's true. Packing, boxes, cleaning, shuffling crap from one pile to the next. Ugh. I officially LOATHE moving. Especially since as I'm moving out this Saturday I also have to think about what to box up and what to pack for London, making my life even more difficult. I'm a little saddened by having to tear apart my cute little apartment that I spent so long on to make it like home (and yet it took so much less time to pack it all up, what's the deal with that?)

Now begins the process of lugging boxes of heavy shit to my car, which, if you've ever lived in an apartment complex is no fun thing. Hopefully I can snag a spot semi-close to my apartment. But not matter what, I will be that sweaty, grunting, cursing, red-faced girl that all the neighbors are watching out their living room windows. (And I know this because, yes, I have been guilty of doing the same thing.)

Moving, you suck.