Starting from scratch

Moving-in was a chore. It is arduous process that took several attempts, and isn't over yet.

Last Friday at the Atlanta Airport:
According to our captain, our flight was stuck in afternoon rush hour traffic. There were ten or elven planes ahead of us on the runway. As I found out, in Atlanta time that means two hours.

We waited on the plane with no air conditioning for two hours. Fine. Delays happen. Why then? I had to move in two hours later than expected - ten minutes after storage and CVS closed. The lease was waiting for me when I arrived. I signed and signed and signed. My apartment was just a skeleton of what I envisioned of a home - empty, smelled of new paint, white walls, and a strange echo of every noise.

Unable to get my pillow out of storage, I wrenched out my clothes from Orlando - t-shirts, undershirts, anything soft - used them for a pillow and slept in my coat on the floor. On the floor like a crazed artist living in a studio located in the heart of Brooklyn, I slept on my cold hardwood floors. Worst night of sleep ever. I couldn't wait until the CVS opened at 7 am. I bought soap. I showered. I found out what it's like showering without a bathmat - terrible; drying yourself off in a puddle.

Saturady - Ikea:
Unbelievable. I felt as if I was fed into a giant blue machine. I grabbed my score card and followed the arrows up the escalator diving through the multiple living rooms, dens, bedrooms... A hour later, I had pieced together my media center and dinning room set: black-brown and sand. All earth tones for my space-age bachelor pad.

Sunday - Target. Crowed, I had to walk out to the parking lot to get a cart.

Monday - Ikea furniture arrives.
I hate putting together Ikea furniture. If I have to see another tiny screw or wooden peg again I'd rather poke myself in the eye. My TV comes next week.