Hello, my pretties, I’m back.  I have been without internet for 2 whole days.  I was close to the brink until the Time Warner guy finally showed up.  Sweet, lord almighty, I love you Time Warner Cable guy.  Go pick yourself out a Christmas present from under my tree.  No really, you deserve it.

In big news (because obviously a wedding isn’t big enough)…we have moved.

Know what I hate more than being without internet and new “16 and Pregnant” episodes on cable?

Moving.

I am not a happy mover.  I am an even un-happier (whatever spellcheck) mover in the middle of winter.  And damnit, why do I always get stuck moving in the winter?

Ok, with the pessimism…I forget I’m a cheeky bride.  My contract states there will be no bitching or moaning.

But oh, let me bitch and moan just a little.

The condo we were living in sold, as I mentioned awhile back.  And that condo, with heated underground parking, two beautiful bathrooms, huge bedrooms and a gorgeous kitchen, will be sorely missed.  Because right now I’m sitting in a tiny apartment, with electric heat baseboards (watch those curtains!) and a kitchen that is literally smaller than my old master bath.

Ok, I got that out of my system.  Now I will resume my normal, cheerful self.  Here are some positives: we can finally decorate with all Tony’s surreal, creep-tastic artwork.  It’s also cozy.  Which means lots of newlywed…quality time.  (You thought I was going to write something else, didn’t you?  I know where your head’s at!)  It also has laundry in each unit and a dishwasher.  A dishwasher!  The dishwasher might have been the thing that sold me, folks.

Even with all these plusses, it’ll take some time to feel like home.  I’m what some would deem “wound tight.”  Don’t snicker too much if you know me, ok?  Anyway – moving is a stressful act for me because I’m that anal person that notices when you move scissors to the wrong side of the drawer.  Don’t ‘f’ with my scissors, man!

So living out of boxes and trying to find homes for every miniscule item makes me feel a little choatic.  Where, or where, will I put this box of Triscuits?  This box of Triscuits needs a home! Oh the humanity!  God help me!

Organization calms me.  In case that last bit didn’t get the point across.

Anyway, I’m feeling a little better with each box I unpack.  And I look forward to hanging all my beautiful windchimes and glass window balls.  Right next to Tony’s creepy artwork.  I consider it a balance.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the box with the XBox did not disappear during transit.  Unfortunately.  A girl can only try so hard, but when you’re husband sleeps with it between you, it’s hard to sneak it out to the trash, is all.

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