One Apartment, Two Cats, Two (and three-quarters) People: What Could Go Wrong?

There are boxes and piles of stuff all over everywhere. Seriously, how on earth did I come to own so much crap? There’s no frame for the bed, the pictures are leaned up against the walls in approximation of where they’ll go once I get around to hanging them, and I’ve commandeered the dining room table for use as an office until I figure out if there’s a way to arrange my furniture to simulate a desk.

I must be moving… again.

Also, there are cats. They paw at my door and beg to come in, freak out when I walk towards the pantry with a can opener, and have been eying my computer cables with a somewhat suspicious amount of hunger in their expressions since I got here. They’re named after pirates, and they certainly do their fair share of pillaging, which is why they’re (supposedly) not allowed on the eating surfaces.

The roommate(s) both human and feline have been here for awhile now, and are pretty much settled. I started moving in almost three weeks ago, and am mostly done. I say mostly because my mom is still finding stray belongings in her house, so I’m collecting those bit by bit.

I may not end up properly settled until the next time I move (I have a habit of doing that) but it is beginning to feel like the place I live. That’s the difficulty with moving in with friends. For the first little while, it kinda feels like a slumber party. I’ve been like the guest who isn’t sure if she’s overstaying her welcome. Occasionally it dawns on me that I pay rent here, and this is actually where I live, but most of the time it still feels like a bit of a holiday.

I’m sure that won’t last past the first time it’s my turn to clean the bathroom.

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