Aside from the disgusting dark brown carpets, the tiny kitchen/laundry/dining room, the lack of DISH WASHER, the surround sound wind capabilities due to poorly installed windows, and the tub that refused to drain properly - the BLISTERING HEAT in the shelter I called home is what forced my husband and I to do the unthinkable... move back into an apartment. An apologetic phone call to our landlord and a search for cardboard boxes began our journey out of hell and into something more confined. Joy. Receiving an electric bill matching the Kardashian's eye-liner receipt makes people do crazy things. I'm not thrilled about the apartment life re-entering our marriage, but the first 6 months of our marriage and the horror film it resembled were just so darn fun that we can't wait to do it again.
We are currently partaking in the leg of the journey that consists of boxes being packed, and I am truly impressed by the sheer amount of crap 2 simple people can accumulate in a 700 sq. foot space. A purge of pre-hoarder tendencies is on the books (aka a Garage Sale) and we've received notice that our apartment won't be ready for a month... meaning chapter 2 to this terrible adventure will include a rousing game of homelessness and lots of lumpy couches.
Ah yes. Home*
