Nesting in Virginia

Welcome to the 17th floor!

On Saturday I made my big move, after staying up til 4 in the morning hanging out with Kateri (love that girl). Packing went fairly quickly and I was happy to catch even a few hours of sleep - until my phone started ringing at 8 am. I answered it blearily only to discover that the girl who is moving into my old room was 15 minutes away, with her dad and all her stuff in tow, and hadn't bothered to tell me she was coming until that minute. Inconsiderate to say the least, but I rallied admirably and made coffee for everyone, plus oatmeal for Kateri and me. Yum. Then I sent the girl and her dad off to Ikea, bid farewell to Kateri, and hastily finished packing.

Carlos showed up around 11 to start moving my stuff. Have we discussed Carlos? I met him at the CIC, at the happy hour following the PP Protest. Upon discovering that he owns a massive pickup truck, I pulled out my best damsel-in-distress, I'm-just-a-helpless-female-who-can't-drive-a-Uhaul routine, and to my eternal gratitude, he bought it. I was worried we'd have to make two trips, and that it would rain on my wood furniture (and my mattress!), but we got really lucky. Not only did Carlos manage to fit every last bit of my possessions in the truck, but we made it to my new apartment before the rain started. Hurray! And not gonna lie, I'm pretty proud that I managed to fit all of my worldly possessions into one pickup truck (although I'm not sure if I own very few possessions, or if it's just a truly massive truck).

You decide.

My new roommate, Sarah, met me at the apartment with her parents, and Patrick, a fellow Notre Dame graduate, arrived to help with the move. We transported everything inside and then took off for lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Later that day I set up my bed, bought some essential groceries (like toilet paper and a shower curtain) and finally collapsed into bed exhausted at 10 pm.

Yesterday was an adventure. Being new to the neighborhood, I didn't have the moral stamina to go to a new church by myself, so I finagled Patrick into accompanying me to Mass. We went to the closest church to me, St. Charles Borromeo, which left me deeply underwhelmed. As though the all-female altar-serving staff and cheesy hippie songs weren't bad enough, the priest felt the need to pontificate on illegal immigration instead of offering a morally substantive homily.

Is it a church or a townhouse?

It was unfortunate, but Patrick and I got a good laugh out of it as we headed to the grocery store for brunch food. He helped me lug groceries back to my place, where we made ourselves a fine meal of mimosas, ham-and-cheese omelets, and croissants. We did have a few funny mishaps - lacking an oven mitt or dish towels, I was forced to use my beach towel to take the croissants out of the oven and to dry the dishes. We also forgot to buy salt, so the omelets were a little bland. Other than that, though, it was quite a fine first meal in my new home.

Now Sarah and I are getting down to the serious business of home-making. It's amazing how expensive things can get; I must admit that I'm jealous of people whose first home is after they get married, so they have the benefit of a bridal registry to help pay for all the new duds. I wish I could make a "new adult" registry, but I don't think that would fly. We're having fun already with the decorating, though. She is more practical and big-picture, attending to things like installing a TV and buying a couch, while I'm concerned with the details of how to make it all pretty - a mirror and pretty table in the foyer, hooks and a chalkboard in the kitchen, theme colors for the bathroom (gold and white, in case you were wondering). My motto is, "Have nothing in your home which you do not know to be useful and believe to be beautiful." It's going to be lovely when it all comes together. Pictures to come!