The story of a boy, a girl, a Buick Century, and a dream.
Before I disconnect my internet (which I will not have access to again, btw, until next Monday at the earliest), I feel the need to elaborate my plan:
TODAY: Finish packing. And by "finish" I mean... Wellll, let's just say I've got a tough row to hoe. As someone pointed out recently, I put the "hoe" in "tough row to hoe." (And I do NOT mean "tough ROAD to hoe," which is what I, The Queen of the Malaprop, originally thought this phrase was. I mean, why would you be hoeing a road? But, for that matter, why would you be hoeing a row if you live in Manhattan? Stupid farm metaphors.)
TONIGHT: Get our keys from Peter, our pastel-shirted new landlord. The people who live in the apartment now are JUST moving out today, so when we get our keys we're going to have to assess the state of the apartment and most likely do some sweeping, mopping, and other cleaning before we move in. Which bites. But we didn't have to pay a broker's fee, so I'm sort of over it.
TOMORROW:
9 a.m. -- We begin our laughable attempt to move all of my possessions from my current apartment to my new one, relying upon only Logan, myself, an '85 Buick station wagon, and a dream. (My dad will be driving the car, but he's too old to really move anything.) This car drove me to band practice in elementary school and moved me into college. It's sort of on its last legs (e.g. you can't accelerate uphill and have the air conditioning on at the same time, and there's a pesky "service engine soon" light that keeps flickering), so think positive thoughts for me tomorrow! Oh yeah, also it's slated to rain.
5 p.m. -- Return my keys
8 p.m. -- Catch my ride to Princeton reunions
This should be interesting.
TODAY: Finish packing. And by "finish" I mean... Wellll, let's just say I've got a tough row to hoe. As someone pointed out recently, I put the "hoe" in "tough row to hoe." (And I do NOT mean "tough ROAD to hoe," which is what I, The Queen of the Malaprop, originally thought this phrase was. I mean, why would you be hoeing a road? But, for that matter, why would you be hoeing a row if you live in Manhattan? Stupid farm metaphors.)
TONIGHT: Get our keys from Peter, our pastel-shirted new landlord. The people who live in the apartment now are JUST moving out today, so when we get our keys we're going to have to assess the state of the apartment and most likely do some sweeping, mopping, and other cleaning before we move in. Which bites. But we didn't have to pay a broker's fee, so I'm sort of over it.
TOMORROW:
9 a.m. -- We begin our laughable attempt to move all of my possessions from my current apartment to my new one, relying upon only Logan, myself, an '85 Buick station wagon, and a dream. (My dad will be driving the car, but he's too old to really move anything.) This car drove me to band practice in elementary school and moved me into college. It's sort of on its last legs (e.g. you can't accelerate uphill and have the air conditioning on at the same time, and there's a pesky "service engine soon" light that keeps flickering), so think positive thoughts for me tomorrow! Oh yeah, also it's slated to rain.
5 p.m. -- Return my keys
8 p.m. -- Catch my ride to Princeton reunions
This should be interesting.