So, the movers came on Saturday, and what I thought was going to be a fun little “live on an aerobed in your living room and rough it” kind of week has turned out to be more similar to what I can only assume were Ernest Hemingway’s last days.
Discarded clothes? Check. Tub of coffee? Check. Thousand-page novel? Check. Remote controls? Check, check. Apparently I have everything I need. However, it’s about 8,000 degrees in my apartment, I spent the majority of my time Sunday laying down because I have no furniture that allows me to sit upright, and I’ve seen the Khloe and Lamar Wedding episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians three times in the past 24 hours.
Basically what I’m trying to say is that if you’re looking for me at any point this week, I’ll be at Mary Ann’s. They at least have bar stools.