So I'm sleeping the sleep of the exhausted, having gone to bed at 4 am. I mean, seriously, for all intents and purposes I am so far out of the land of consciousness that my brain isn't even doing a fly-by. I am jerked from this incredibly pleasant sensation by a pounding at my door. I roll off the couch (my bed having been dismantled last night)
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Good luck with the move. This afternoon, one hopes. I wish I lived close enough to bring you guys a cooked meal this evening.
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We're doing a two-pronged move actually...September 1 is the crazy-busy-huge moving day for Boston because all the students with apartments move in, so they were going to charge us $290 an hour to move us then. When we balked at paying $1500ish to move across town, we ended up finding a deal where they'd move us out today and into our new place Sept. 3 and store all our stuff for the week for a third of that. So I'm living out of a suitcase for the next nine days, but, hey...I'm a cheapskate frugal. *G*
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K. (obviously mortified): OMGWTFPANTS.
My Dad (who lives with all girls and dated my mum while she was at an all-girl's college and doesn't even notice these things anymore): Good morning!
K. (still obviously mortified): OMGWTFPANTS.
What was even better was when her boy...toy walked out of her room five minutes later. Oh, what fun, awkward times.
At least the movers left and you're up and have a few hours to accomplish things...?
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XD
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Well, I suppose at least you're up. Considering my general fondness for being up in the morning part of the day, I don't know if that qualifies as good news, so maybe there's no at least there. Heh.
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