If War is Hell...

Then moving is Purgatory.

I apologize for my absence from blogging, but I have spent the last week under a pile of boxes, trying to create a cohesive apartment from a pile of CaCa. My boyfriend and I finished hanging the wall decor today, so after 8 days, one late-night wall-painting session, many bent nails, and another huge bookshelf later, we are about 90-95% "there." When the apartment is all put together (still waiting on a wall painting and some cleaning/final organizing), I will of course post pictures. I do have to say, even more so than the other place, this apartment feels like a "real" person apartment.

This whole process has been a nightmare, though. First there was the crazy move-in, and my freaking out a bit when I found out some of my furniture was nic'd up from it. Then the slow progress made putting everything in its place and organized, having to clean boxes and boxes and boxes out of the apartment, getting a new (HUGE) bookshelf because my boyfriend is a library. I think this move was harder because we were combining both my boyfriend's stuff and my stuff, instead of mostly my stuff plus some of my boyfriend's clothes, so there was a lot more crap to wade through. But in the end, it does feel more like "our" apartment, which is nice. I of course was stressed beyond belief the whole week. My mother, to her credit, raised me in a pretty much immaculately clean household. While I am not as fastidious as my mother, I do thus tend to have a higher clean (or at least organized) standard, so living in chaos is very personally stressful for me. I was not happy. I am now happier because our apartment now actually looks like one.

The neighborhood we are in is interesting. Only a few blocks west is cutesy Andersonville, with many little boutique-y stores and restaurants. Andersonville is also apparently Chicago's "little Scandinavia" (or what is left of it), so it will be an opportunity to get re-acquianted with "my people" (Norwegian Pride, b*tches), with a splash of some Middle Eastern/Mediterranean food places. And yet all the way there, and a fair ways south, is apparently "new Chinatown," which is really more like "new Chi-Kor-Viet-town," with some random Italian restaurants dotting the whole way. So, in a weird way, its almost like where I was in New York: Surrounded by Asian and Italian food. Except Chicago is, ya know, cleaner. So I am looking forward to exploring and getting to know the 'hood.

That's pretty much it for today. This really crappy week is behind me, and I am calm again. In conclusion: I hate moving.

Speaking of New York, I will be in New York in less than a week, and then back there again less than a week after that. I got some callbacks from OCI, which definitely also helped calm me down, as for a while it was either radio silence or rejections from the firms, which kind of made me feel like a tool. So hopefully despite being real whirlwind trips, the callbacks in New York will go well. It would be super sweet to be in New York again next summer. And since the firm gigs would be paid, and my boyfriend's job is a school-year thing, maybe he could come hang out in the city with me as I sublet a place or something. So will keep my fingers crossed.

Got to go now: now that the place is finally together, we are actually cooking dinner, rather than eating out or getting takeout. Yay!