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Thursday, 11 January 2007 11:33 |
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Much of my weekend was spent moving into a new apartment approximately one block from my old apartment. My new apartment is so close to my old one that I actually considered carrying my mattress down the street instead of borrowing my sister’s truck. I’m glad I didn’t do that because as SML was helping during the move he kept asking questions like, “How much would movers cost?” This move was big for me because it’s the first time I’m moving into an apartment by myself. As in there won’t be anyone to catch me walking naked from my bedroom to the kitchen to pop microwavable popcorn. With this new freedom, I could even do naked jumping jacks to the rhythm of the popcorn popping; or as SML has often suggested, I could take up a new hobby of directing low-budget adult films. One of the reasons I’ve never wanted to live by myself is because I’m afraid of dying alone. There’s just too much that could happen; I could accidentally fall in the shower or electrocute myself while shaving patterns into my chest hair. There’s this episode of Sex and the City where Miranda is afraid of dying alone and having her cat eat off her face. When I saw that episode, I understood exactly how she felt because it would be days before anyone found me. I don’t sympathize as much with Miranda, because AT LEAST SHE HAS A CAT. SML has offered several times to eat off my face when I die, but it isn’t the same as having a kitty.
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