Movin' On Up

I assisted Miss A in a move yesterday. She packed up all her stuff and moved it from the smallest apartment I had ever seen to one even smaller - but his one had central air and a bathtub. And it did not face Bardstown Road. And even though she denies that this had any real weight in the decision, Mr. B lives a short bike ride away. (And we all know how convenient that can be.) But the apartment is very cute, and bright, and even though the building is creepy as hell and the hallway to take out trash or do laundry looks like something from a horror movie, I think it's perfect. More than one person can fit in her kitchen, and Mr. B even built her a computer! However, things were a bit sketchy there for awhile, when we had everything crammed in and nothing in place and it pretty much looked like this

LPT had a great time launching herself from one piece of furniture to the next, all the while trailing animal crackers behind her, as though she was making a last-ditch effort to be able to find her way back to the bed. By far the most obnoxious thing she did all day was discover and exploit thoroughly the horn on Miss A's bike - it's in the shape of a fox, and it squeaks. And after hauling stuff around, and unpacking, and wiping down, and putting down the invention of the devil himself, CONTACT PAPER, the last thing anyone wanted to hear was a frigging squeaky fox.

Of course, now the apartment looks awesome. Like this.