Bedknobs and broomsticks

I'M DONE MOVING.

My old apartment is empty and my new place has filled up nicely. There's still some stuff in my car, but I clearly hit my carrying-stuff-up-stairs threshold yesterday because a great deal of it, including the vacuum, stayed in the car until today, which got the attention of the barista womaning the drive-through window at Starbucks this morning.

I'm happy to be done -- check that; I'm ELATED to be done -- and will be able to fully relax once the leasing office people walk through my old place and decide how much they're going to charge me for the burn mark on the carpet, as well as the bleached spot caused by some errant spraying of cleanser on the kitchen floor. I don't know why I'm stressing. Probably just because I'm afraid they'll decide fixing those minor boo-boos will cost more than the $100 security deposit I paid, and I'm not exactly flush with the bucks right now.

Anyway, not much else to report right now. Keep an eye out for my sunglasses, the sandals I wear to work, any clothes that aren't wrinkled or covered in cat hair, and my headband. I think they're all in one... of these... boxes...