RP: Adjustments
Date: Wednesday, 3 April 1999 | Afternoon
Characters: Angelina Johnson
Location: 47 Vinewood Terrace; 3B
Status: Private
Summary: Angelina paints her living room and tries to get used to living alone.
Completion: Complete
Angelina stepped back and surveyed the paint job. She had decided to paint the living room a soft yellow (buttercream, the can was labeled), and she thought it was going to go quite nicely with her red couch.
She knew she could paint the walls with magic, but for some reason, she wanted to paint the Muggle way--the way her father had taught her. Her mind was cluttered, and she hadn't quite grown accustomed to living alone.
Sure she had sometimes loathed seeing another pair of boxers on the bathroom floor or kicked into the living room or the dirty dishes in the sink or an empty carton of food on the countertop when the rubbish bin was centimeters away...
But...she missed the noise, the fact that as soon as she took something out of the oven the boys would magically appear, the way she could bring home takeaway and someone would eat it with her, too.
She knew the second coat of paint would need to dry, so she washed the roller and brush in the sink. Moving in had been a chore. Everyone had been too busy to help, and getting the bed into the flat had forced her to use colorful language, but she had cried twice, so she was almost thankful no one had shown up.
Still, she felt lonely. She knew it would pass, but sometimes the flat was too quiet, too empty. Maybe she would change out of her paint-splattered clothes and go into Hogsmeade for an early dinner.
Characters: Angelina Johnson
Location: 47 Vinewood Terrace; 3B
Status: Private
Summary: Angelina paints her living room and tries to get used to living alone.
Completion: Complete
Angelina stepped back and surveyed the paint job. She had decided to paint the living room a soft yellow (buttercream, the can was labeled), and she thought it was going to go quite nicely with her red couch.
She knew she could paint the walls with magic, but for some reason, she wanted to paint the Muggle way--the way her father had taught her. Her mind was cluttered, and she hadn't quite grown accustomed to living alone.
Sure she had sometimes loathed seeing another pair of boxers on the bathroom floor or kicked into the living room or the dirty dishes in the sink or an empty carton of food on the countertop when the rubbish bin was centimeters away...
But...she missed the noise, the fact that as soon as she took something out of the oven the boys would magically appear, the way she could bring home takeaway and someone would eat it with her, too.
She knew the second coat of paint would need to dry, so she washed the roller and brush in the sink. Moving in had been a chore. Everyone had been too busy to help, and getting the bed into the flat had forced her to use colorful language, but she had cried twice, so she was almost thankful no one had shown up.
Still, she felt lonely. She knew it would pass, but sometimes the flat was too quiet, too empty. Maybe she would change out of her paint-splattered clothes and go into Hogsmeade for an early dinner.