An entry like watching paint dry
In the week between the time I moved out and the time I had to hand over the keys, I spent time fixing everything up so that the place would look nice for the walk-through and inspection. Most of the time was spent patching the wall I defaced, and I did quite the crappy job if I do say so myself. Turns out layers of spackle and paint just kinda look like layers of spackle and paint, and not the perfectly smooth surface I'd pictured in my head.
I did the last coat a half hour before scheduled inspection, and then did everything I could to make the paint dry faster (which means that I waved the door open/shut/open/shut a few times in attempts to, I don't know, give the paint some fresh air?).
Wet paint on the wall would have drawn attention the fact that it was uneven and looked like crap. And as the paint dried, I started to focus on all the damage I'd done to the apartment: the red paint stains on the carpet, the holes in the ceiling; I stressed out about the plywood I'd left in the closet. I had no way to move it now and was convinced that the rental agency would be pissed. Even after deciding that I would just say the wood was there when I got there thus rolling off any responsibility for my shit, I stressed out about how it would go over. Unnecessary. I hoped that I'd at least get part of my deposit back, but I was convinced I wouldn't get it all.
What I hadn't taken into account was the fact that overall, my building is junky. Apparently my apartment is one of the best maintained. This is the first time I've met the new manager, and now I wish he'd been manager when I moved in. He's planning on taking out all of the carpet and refinishing the original hardwood floors before the next tennant moved in. Hardwood floors would have tipped the scale from my being okay with my apartment to my loving my apartment when I was there. If I had known that they were just going to tear the carpet up once I moved out, I would have done it myself a year ago.
But why spend time regretting something that is both out of my control and irrelevant to the present and future?
I'm quite enjoying my new house. Without so much time to myself, I've found that my grooming habits have gone nearly AWOL. I don't have everything put away and organized yet, so the mess of my room just perpetuates itself right now.
I'm totally crushing. It's weird and foreign. Random, too, but I guess that's how these things happen. There was that period last year when I was doing the "dating," thing, but never very well. I didn't feel much with any one I went out with then, and the whole things was very blasé. Now, after being emotionally dormant for so long, even an innocent headed-nowhere kind of crush is comforting in a way.
Packages are so exciting, especially packages of tits! As with all new toys, when I'm away from my new breasts I just get so excited thinking about them, and can't wait to get home to play with them. And then I get home and realize they're just expensive lumps of silicone, and there are only so many ways to play with that.
[insert breast-fondling joke of your choice here.]
I love my boobs!
(really, though. i'm not a drag queen.)