All By Myself

So here I am. My sister left for Wisconsin today, and I am now officially on my own, once again. I'm a big boy! And yet I don't know what to do. Orientation doesn't begin until a week from Thursday, so I really haven't met anyone yet. The cably guy is coming on Monday. Until then, what's a gal to do? Err... boy. Man. Ruggedly handsome man. Point being: one man can only watch the same episodes of Scrubs or his brand new used DVD of Silence of the Lambs (Holla, Julie!) so many times. I tried getting a jump start on my assignments (oh, yes, I have received assignments by e-mail, even though classes don't start until Sept. 5. Daaaaamn!), but I can only get so far without access to the law library yet, since registration isn't until the 31st. I've tried planning my outfit for class photo day (also the 31), but I just don't know what to do. I mean, I've hit a roadblock here, folks. Obviously, I'm feeling khakis and some collared shirt. But do I go tie? I don't want to be that guy wearing a tie when nobody else is, but I also don't want to be that guy who isn't wearing a tie when everyone else is (gooooooo conformist!). I mean, we're talking class photos here. CLASS PHOTO! This is something for all posterity. This is a fundamental step. Damn it, it's prom all over again. Let's hope this doesn't end in bitter tears and broken dreams, too (just kidding!). So, moral of the story: what am I to do? Until I figure that out, I guess the only thing I can do is try and grow a pair. And pick out the bitching-est corsage ever. Wish me luck!

Moving is a Bi-yotch*

*Or: Why U-Haul can bite me and corkscrew

I never want to move again. Ever. Seriously. I hate this game, and I suck at it like nobody's business. What should happen but the good people at U-Haul overbooked for Wisconsin by 40 people. So, while I went into Milwaukee for the last time to see Ellen, Mother drove in to Iowa City to pick up a U-Haul. This was soon followed by cramming as much of my crap into the truck as possible. In my usual irresponsible way, I decided to enjoy my last night by seeing my friends in their awesome production of "Little Shop of Horrors" followed by drinks at T.G.I. Friday's. So I didn't get home until around midnight, with lots of packing left to do. I still don't regret it. A great memory of a night out with friends is worth even little sleep and putting up with my pissed-off sister who was so kind and willing to help. Bridges have been burned.

On Sunday, we finally left around 11:30. To sum up: the trip ended in tears. Namely, my mother's. And not entirely from losing her baby to law school, but because I couldn't take it any more when she started talking to the police officer on the street in a baby voice. "Hi! This is our first time in Boston!" as she moves the man's earflap so he can hear her. Wow. My words: "You are a 55 year old doctor. Start [expletive deleted] acting like one." Granted, this is after I've been driving around Boston and Cambridge with a 14' U-Haul, dealing with the construction workers who are blocking our reserved parking spot (that cost me 25 friggin bucks for the day!), and attempting to parallel park a U-Haul. However, all went well after that. The rain from the morning finally stopped, we got our parking spot, we unloaded everything, and some people who were moving in to the adjoining unit volunteered to help.

Now everything is pretty much set up. All the furniture is put together with a little blood, sweat, and tears. Quite literally. I dropped the heaviest item (my desk) on my foot. So much for wearing sandals again this year! Damn. There goes my foot modelling career. Once I get rid of the trash and boxes, this place is gonna look damn fine. Just remember: If my bachelor pad is a rockin', feel free to come a-knockin'. Wink!

Am I actually ready for this?

I mean, seriously. The freaking out has crept in. I am leaving on Sunday for Boston. This Sunday. Harvard. Yow. New town. New school. New people. New everything. Considering that I'm not even ready for the physical move (yeah, I've had all summer, and I have accomplished nil), I don't even know about the whole uprooted social scene. Maybe that's why I've tried to avoid seeing people, so I don't have to say goodbye. I hate goodbyes. Plus, you rarely know when "goodbye" really means "goodbye." How many times have I said it, and still seen the person again? Far too many to count. So, I will take that optimistically. If I haven't said goodbye to you, that's why. I'm just such an optimist.

Area Rugs on Clearance are Better than Sex:

Or: So this is what my life has become?

Upon preparing for the big move, I realize that I have reached a certain stage of my life. I'm not sure exactly what the technical term for it is, but I shall just call it "Nesting." This is where I am finding things for my new apartment. Now, to the untrained eye, it might appear as though this is the same as finding the new things for the room freshman year of college. However, this is entirely different from the residence hall (or "dorm" for the bourgeouis swine who have never become slaves to the cult of res life and know better). Then it was a time of finding cool, kitschy, handy space saver items. Fun patterns, bright colors, and if it's plastic, all the better! No, no my friends, I am now firmly in the place where I drool over Crate & Barrel. Apparently, and don't ask how, I am now on the mailing list for Pottery Barn. Pages are dog-eared and committed to memory. Which is handy, because some of them stick together (ok, ew, not like that - my sister's dog threw up on it). So what is a day in the life of the Nester?

I wake up around 7:30 AM, even though I don't work, I'm not in school, I am far from the mythical "morning person" and normally having nothing real to do. However, today is an exception. I eagerly get up this early because I have a date. No, not the real kind (honestly, you should know me better than that!). Starting at 8:00 AM, Kohl's is having a huge sale. Well, I want to get there before all the old geezers who can save an additional 20%. (So not only do they get Social Security - which won't exist when I'm their age - but they get better discounts? Bastards!) Anyway, I find a lovely area rug and end up paying only a third of the sticker price. Result! Add some kitchen rugs, a pillow that is the perfect shade to complement my chair, and I'm quite accomplished. Later, it's off to Menard's to try and find a carpet runner for the bedroom, which I've decided to do in shades of blues.

Yep, this is my sad life. Perhaps the saddest part is I really don't think it's sad at all. I'm excited about it. I like nice things. I like my hardwood floors. And I need to put the effort into making my home look nice now, because when school actually starts, I'm not going to have the time or energy to do it.

Now, for everyone out there worried about me, please don't. I'm still just as obsessed about clothing. I've simply added home furnishings and decor to my repertoire. To illustrate: I'm at Boston Store while Mother is shopping for purses. As I browse the men's section, I find the most gorgeous grey pin-stripe suit. Perry Ellis. 100% wool. And, best part yet: flat front pants. No pleats! And, because of the one-day event, I could save $50 because Boston Store classifies Mother as a "senior citizen." But of course, it's nowhere near fitting. I'm just too tall. Bastards. This would not be a problem in Italy, where things are made for my body type. I swear, sometimes the tall, skinny, handsome ones just can't catch a break...