home sweet home

At Camp Eberhart, if a cabin was late for the morning meeting, all of the other cabins would sing: Better late than never, better never late. You're late, you're late, and you're ugly, so very ugly.

At the time, we thought it was really funny, but in retrospect, I think it might have been a little mean. Being late is bad enough in and of itself, but ugly, too? Seems kind of harsh.

That being said, I wrote this post two weeks ago and never put it up, as I wanted to take pictures to accompany. However Roomie Katie just left me for the next few weeks, so I decided I better bite the bullet. It may be a week or two late, but the sentiment remains the same...

Re: Our New Place

We're in! And we're so happy!
[imagine a picture of us really happy here]

And MellySally neighbors are happy, too!
[now imagine one of Melissa and Sally]

Katie and I both feel uncomfortable expressing how happy we are in our new house, because we fear our words can't do it justice. We are having moments where we keep thinking: is this a trick!? Can we really live here? This close to the park? Next to Mel and Sal? Together?

A huge, huge part of my happiness is attributed to my parents, who drove down this weekend to help me move. I stood in the kitchen completely overwhelmed by boxes, opening them and saying, "I just don't know where to begin," over and over. After far too long of doing this, I looked up and realized they had unpacked them and the kitchen was organized.

Replay that scene in the living room and my bedroom, and you have the weekend in review. I felt a teens useless, and am eternally grateful for their can-do attitudes and unrelenting determination. Food? Sleep? Meh. They truly are machines, and I love them so much. Thank you! Now come visit us soon!
[now imagine Sally in this photo, too.]

cleanliness, godliness, busyness

Yesterday on the way in to work, I asked my dad what his weekend plans were. He told me I was premature, considering it was not even 7 a.m. on Wednesday.

However, today! Today, people! It's Thursday! And it's completely appropriate to talk about the weekend, because there is just one tiny day keeping us from touching it.

We've been a little overextended in the office lately, to the point that when I get home at night, my brain is fried and I can't think of anything clever to say on here (see yesterday's post). Today, my coworker was telling me she was feeling the same way, and that she was struggling to find time for basic tasks, such as washing her hair. Somewhat of an obsessive showerer, I didn't fully relate, but it made me glad to know we're in this boat together - albeit a stinky one.

I'm very much looking forward to a bit of mindlessness this weekend. I'm not quite sure where I'll find it, but I'm bound and determined to make it happen. Preferably in Piedmont Park.

But for now, we press on! Here's to hoping for some hair washing time today. Happy Thursdee!


here we go again!

The question at hand is: why did I buy multiple sheets of return address labels when I knew I was only staying at my current location temporarily?

Because of my admitted (more than once) addiction to snail mail? Maybe. Or because I had every intention of sending Christmas cards, and they’re still in a basket under my bed? That too. And also because I wanted my temporary abode to feel like home.

And it did.

But now, I’m on the move. My current roommate, Katie, and I are headed south – to Midtown, that is (Midtown is south, right?). I’ve got two groceryless weeks in my current place until I pack it up again and begin calling Piedmont Park, and Melissa and Sally, my neighbors. Oh, I’m so excited!

Di di di! See you at Park Tavern!