We moved Saturday, I had the flu of course. I haven't been sick all year, but my immune system chooses now to go on vacation. So I am not in the best shape to begin with, and the worst shape to be moving. Thank Rod, I am only moving a teeny tiny one room condo. We'll not so much moving, as pointing my moving staff where to go. With 2 emergency stops and a 20 min power pass out between loading shifts I managed to hold my shit together- literally. But my new home has welcomed me.
In my former neighbourhood wearing my lulus on a Sunday dog walk was totally acceptable, especially after a drinking holiday like St. Paddy's, but not here. I am not sure if Fashion week is still on, but my new hood is ready for a Grid style on the street article anytime. That puts a lot of peer pressure on a poor, sick and newly moved tenant, who’s having trouble finding all her clothes. This area is: Thin and trendy only. Which also means I have to bitch slap the gym. The Jones' are way ahead, and though I am not competitive, I don't like to lose.
As for Kitty/Puppy... well, they may need a serious whispering. These poor beasts have only known life cooped up with Hubby and I in one room. OH the stress of walls, doors and limited visibility. Can you imagine having to guess what your mother was doing one room over? I mean, she could be playing with your toys or eating your food, the possibilities are endless and you have to know, heaven forbid you sleep your typical 20 hours a day while they could be chowing down on steak (Jilly forgets we don't eat meat), dropping morsels onto the floor to be eaten by some other animal that could be in here... There's just too much room for error. *insert dramatic gasp So, as I move from room to room I have an unmatched pair of furry anklets, with tiny clicking nails following me, very helpful while carrying boxes. As I blog now, which might be the longest I've been stationary, I am pinned by a snoring Puppa and a happily purring Lucy who expects me to type on-handed while stroking her. I am happy that they are spending more time together in this bigger space than they did in my teeny King. Like a pair of feuding sisters binding together against adversity.
With that I am off touting my Flu-thin body in my haute couture prêt-à-porter garment to catwalk my Doggie. I'll show these Jones' who's keeping up. Though these stilettos might get mud covered, but that's a blog for another day.
In my former neighbourhood wearing my lulus on a Sunday dog walk was totally acceptable, especially after a drinking holiday like St. Paddy's, but not here. I am not sure if Fashion week is still on, but my new hood is ready for a Grid style on the street article anytime. That puts a lot of peer pressure on a poor, sick and newly moved tenant, who’s having trouble finding all her clothes. This area is: Thin and trendy only. Which also means I have to bitch slap the gym. The Jones' are way ahead, and though I am not competitive, I don't like to lose.
As for Kitty/Puppy... well, they may need a serious whispering. These poor beasts have only known life cooped up with Hubby and I in one room. OH the stress of walls, doors and limited visibility. Can you imagine having to guess what your mother was doing one room over? I mean, she could be playing with your toys or eating your food, the possibilities are endless and you have to know, heaven forbid you sleep your typical 20 hours a day while they could be chowing down on steak (Jilly forgets we don't eat meat), dropping morsels onto the floor to be eaten by some other animal that could be in here... There's just too much room for error. *insert dramatic gasp So, as I move from room to room I have an unmatched pair of furry anklets, with tiny clicking nails following me, very helpful while carrying boxes. As I blog now, which might be the longest I've been stationary, I am pinned by a snoring Puppa and a happily purring Lucy who expects me to type on-handed while stroking her. I am happy that they are spending more time together in this bigger space than they did in my teeny King. Like a pair of feuding sisters binding together against adversity.
With that I am off touting my Flu-thin body in my haute couture prêt-à-porter garment to catwalk my Doggie. I'll show these Jones' who's keeping up. Though these stilettos might get mud covered, but that's a blog for another day.
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