Wunce Agane Perspective & Relativity Fale Me

So I picked up the keys to the apartment last night, and went in for the first time since I looked it over and said "yes, have some". I unlocked the door, dropped my four bags of miscellaneous crap, and looked around; and then did an impression of the above icon.

I don't know how, but it looked bigger with all the previous tenant's stuff in it. I WILL NEVER FIIIIIIIIT I HAVE THROWN OUT ALL MY STUFF AND I STILL WON'T FIIIIIIIIIIT

While I was slowly rotating and gibbering, sweh came in (with flowers!!) and got me a bit calmed down; and then I proceeded with the intended goal, which was to take the tape measure and the graph paper and actually graph the place out. (This is what happens when your parents start you on D&D at age 7.) Regrettably I cannot scan it at this time, so draw along at home: The place is basically a big rectangle, just under 11' wide, and about 25' long. (And then the bathroom is stuck on the end.) At the not-bathroom end are two windows; if you set your back to them and walk forward about 15.5', the walls come in to form a 5' wide doorway, with two folding doors. When you're standing with your back to the windows, immediately to your left is stove, sink, enough countertop for one appliance (who wins? Coffeemaker, mixer, rice cooker, or toaster?), and fridge. Th-th-th-that's all, folks.

Intellectually, I know it is more than possible to live in such a space. We all know people who do, and do it well. And moreover, as I keep chanting to myself, I have a one year lease; if the place chafes, I can leave. But it's still a shock to the mind to feel all "oh I've done pretty well! Look at all the stuff I'm getting rid of or not taking!" and then realize, well, actually, it's not half enough. It has been noted that perhaps I am just a wee bit too wrapped up in Proving Something and Doing It Perfectly and sundry other related issues.

I'm not sure if the futon fits. The desk does, but by damn the computer goes there and only there. TV goes where? Can't take the blue armchair, or if I do, it's in place of the futon and that seems bad, want to have a guest bed. Must get flat-panel TV, no two ways about that. I can fit bed and dresser, and the jewelry armoire, but I just don't know about the vanity. OH MY GOD I FORGOT ABOUT THE BAR STUFF WHERE DOES THE BOOZE GO

Oh, and litterbox. I could probably get a smaller one, as Ranger eats two kibbles a day and produces very little effluvium, but it still must needs go somewhere.

So. Yes. Everybody Panic.

In Which I Make An Assumption, And Suffer Accordingly

So, I've been sitting on the bare floor for four hours, waiting for Verizon. At half past twelve I give up and call them, and actually get straight through to A Human on this continent, mirabile dictu.

"Oh, they've already turned it on. Your order doesn't have any jacks on it, so they didn't need to knock on your door."

but but but the order lady told me....

"I'm sorry about that, but they won't have needed to, so. Anyways it should be on now, why don't you plug a phone in and test."

....because there are no jacks in the apartment. Well, shit. You would think, would you not, that an apartment that's been inhabited since 1872 might have had ONE PERSON WITH PHONE SERVICE LIVING HERE? Ever? At some point? I certainly did, so contemptuously checked "no" on the tickybox. Mais non.

So, I must be here 8am-noon on Tuesday, and will pay a three-digit sum, and the nice man will make inside wiring appear. At least I shall have a chair.

Now to return to NJ, and deliver office cats, and pack more boxes, and make time to meet up with my mom who drove here to give me a coffeepot.

I Keep Forgetting This

So, I hauled up north at 9:00 (after a long day of assorted taskery and mental ugh) to meet my mom, who landed here for the night on her way to shechameleon's. The ostensible purpose was that she was giving me a coffeemaker, which I lacked; these arrangements having been made before I looked again at the apartment and went ZOMG NO SPACE. I refined it by giving back into her care my great-grandma's china, which there is seriously no space for in my life at this time, and a few things for my niece and nephew which I had been too lame to actually post. (B: It's old jewelry, in your cedar box, and also some books.) I didn't want to go running around late at night after such a day of bees, but, y'know, she rented a car and is having a 15-hour drive just to give me a Goddamn Mr. Coffee. So.

And we went to dinner, and we talked, and it was really good.

I keep forgetting, or fearing that it's not going to happen this time, that when push comes to shove and the mad and the bad and the crazy are upon you, Mom puts all her usual fussy aside and is all the supportive, helpful, and contributory in the world. She has done this time and again when I've been in a tough place--and it's not that I have to hold up my hand and say "OK, I'm a mess right now", either. She just knows, and does what you need accordingly. My mom is, at the base of it, in spite of all the chaos and arbitrary and what-not, actually awesome.