Last time we moved I made a promise to myself that I would hire people to do it for us next time. That way, instead of sweating or unleashing my cunty attitude at whoever is around (I'm sorry honeybooze), I could just stand around pointing, criticizing and sipping champers.... But I broke that promise. Instead we had a few friends help. I got sweaty and was a cunt for most of the day.
Later that night I cried about the kitchen and decided to take pictures of everything I hate in our new apartment. I'm going to post those later, room by tragic room.
I should also mention that our dog, Business, hates the apartment too. He is deathly afraid of the staircase to our "bedroom". Since moving in, he spends most of his time wandering around looking nervous or staring at the front door as if to say "Take me home, bitches! This place is the worst!" I concur, Bizzles. I concur.
Side note: While we were cleaning the old place I found a dime in the pile of dust and dog hair that I was sweeping. Before I knew what was happening I stuck that dime in my mouth. What the what?
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