Friday, May 15, 2009

I like to move it, move it

The things we love about our new apartment:
  1. Everything we own, left out on counters is stress to me, but all games to Kina. So many things to knock over!
  2. Trying to run away from it.
  3. The food
  1. The parallel litter boxes. We haven’t set them up yet (by which I mean, found a way to hide them from the average visitor but leave them convenient to the kitties), so right now, the two litter boxes are sitting side by side in our special-olympics-sized bathroom.** Today, Franc learned he could stand with his front feet in one litter box and his back feet in the other, and pee. This is the cat equivalent of overseas travel, or visiting the Four Corners Monument.
  2. Easy-open cabinets, which give him 67% more area in which to hide.
  3. The food.
  1. ME! I asked him what his favorite thing about the new apartment was, and he actually said “you.” (No, not you. Me.) He was (a) being a romantic fool (b) suffering from short-term memory loss and forgot that I lived in the old apartment, too (c) about to ask if he can go on a month-long hiking/fishing/hunting expedition to Alaska. (I'm going with a) (and the answer would be no, because I can't operate the bucket shower without him).
  2. The bucket shower. (We DO have plumbing available to us, even in the South. We just choose to try not to use it.)
  3. Our porch, which also happens to be the plants' favorite thing about our new apartment. Abe loves that the plants can enjoy the “musical sun.” (His words, not mine.) (Ed, I still maintain we are not growing weed, in spite of any evidence to the contrary.)
  1. **The special-olympics-sized bathroom. So I guess now it’s time to tell that story. In college, I lived near an evil corporation coffee shop. It was tiny (even to me, and I was living in what I think was once the maid’s closet of a historic Charleston home at the time), and to use the bathroom, you had to squeeze yourself down a hallway to a door marked with a handicapped-accessible sign. And inside was the biggest bathroom of your life. So our joke (and you should close your eyes and skip a line, if you’re especially sensitive to insensitive jokes) was that they held the special olympics there. And that is now how I judge the size of a bathroom. (I did learn other things in college.) (like statistics, as I'm sure 98% of you have noticed.)
  2. Exercise: Third floor apartment + chasing after runaway Kina + hide and seek with Franc + 60 steps to the front door, as opposed to 30 before. I am going to be a beast.
  3. Potential to start over in a new life with a place for everything and everything in its place
  4. (I get the most because this is my blog; also Kina is not that talkative) Doing laundry in my own home, which I turn out to love secretly, because it makes me feel like a Responsible Adult.
  5. An excuse to look at shelving and small sofas at Goodwill.


  1. Now if anyone asks whether Franc is the boy or the girl you have a definitive proof you can point towards. See? Strange attempts to achieve new positions in which to pee? Gotta be a guy. Loved Abe's attempt to butter you up for the big ask. Are you seriously going?

  2. Abe's really going to Alaska for a month to "be one with nature"?
    You'd be amazed at what living on a third floor apartment will do for your gluteus maximus!