The move is (mostly) over, and Ame and I are in our new place. I’m finally more free to begin posting again, especially since I’m definitely not dead.

It’s quite nice really, just full of all our old crap. Well, most of it at least. Some of it has since gone on to garbage heaven for various reasons. One of the reasons, of course, being that either of us couldn’t arsed to give a damn about some piece of junk we hadn’t seen for more than a year. I imagine there will be many more trips out to the new (oh boy!) dumpster at our new apartment.

Which, to be maximally irritating isn’t a dumpster at all! To be fair, the fact that it is not a dumpster doesn’t bother me. There exists but one trash compacter to service the whole apartment complex. It is more than capable to handle the load for… (numbers whizzing by in my head) 500 residents or so and their various trash needs. This one compacter is on the northeast corner of the community, while our apartment is on the southwest corner. There is no convenient Rubbermaid dolly, no intermediate dumpster, no trash pick-up service, no vacuum-tube trash-chute (which would be super-cool by the way – such a system would have to move hundreds of pounds of bulky goods reliably), just the long haul out the back 40.

The new place is on the top floor too, which we chose, by the way. At the old place, we were on the ground floor and the tenants above would make a fair bit of noise and thumping – the elephants we called them.  Now we don’t have to put up with that bullshit, and it’s our turn to be the elephants! A wonderful reason to not be up on the third floor though is Snickers is terrified of stairs. Whenever he has to go out, and boy howdy is that ever more often than I’d like it be, I have to carry him up and down so he can do his dog business. There are other pros to that con though. Chiefly among them:

Zombies.

Would you like to be on the ground floor when they attack? Thought so.