I cannot wait.

Um, the point was to celebrate my MOVING IN to a new place to-day. This evening. Although, it’s not much to celebrate… it is a single roomed unit in a mansion in Greek Row. An *OLD* mansion… no point in getting excitable; my room is small and to me, who has had the luck and pleasure of living in some interesting apartments with some lovely ladies, it will be a poetically Baudelarian experience (if phrased dramatically, with the hint of English-major pretentiousness) and I will bemoan the bare threads of my living accouterments as “What I only need”,  a “conscious” way of living, “freeing” myself from unnecessary luxuries and thus, dangers of consumerist behavior (although, I cute tea set in my imaginary apartment with its imaginary kitchen would probably please me to no end for frivolous reasons we will not discuss).

Baudelaire, him and I? Our angsts have touched follicles, via Avatarian mind merge

It’ll be refreshing, though: to be free of social constraints in the privacy of my own … er, room. Place. My ex-roommates were cool enough to have their own separate lives– er, work, boyfriends, errands… but you never know, people have mostly shown to be particularly butt-hurt and sensitive when it comes to a “hello” or “goodbye”.

Baudy knows. He’s done away with all those silly willy nillies.

Graciousss

There are some ridiculous ads out there.

Warning alerts for: Cozy. Fun. Studious. Quiet. 420 friendly.

Some don’t even have addresses, because they trick you into viewing the place first. Priorities must be maintained.

Living with strangers will be interesting– I’ve been lucky enough to live with close friends for the past few years, and we’ve had great times (to say ze leazt); although, for the most part, people are terrified of living with their friends. Something about dirty dishes destroying relationships.

Which is why a dishwasher is so important.

2 more visits to go—

Exeunt.

Graceee