Alexandria transition, Part I

Dear D to the I to the A to the R to the Y:

Moving out of my apartment and into Dr. C�s one bedroom has been quite an interesting transition. Since I still think of the apartment as his and since I am usually there on the weekends, it took me a several weekdays before I realized that it was okay to go to bed around 11:00. I�m not used to having my stuff there either so initially I would forget what the situation was and then walk by the desk and wonder to myself �why is my computer here?� or �that dresser looks a lot like mine.� I set my coffee to go off in the morning and the first time I did this I woke up the next morning, walked into the kitchen and saw that my coffee pot was all filled with caffeinated goodness. I was totally thrown off. My morning routine, as I have discussed before is set like clockwork and now I have to devise a new routine. I stood there staring at the coffee maker wondering how it had managed to move itself from my apartment to here, fill itself up with coffee and water, and set the timer so it went off right when I woke up. I picked up a mug, shuffled over to the coffee pot and stared at it again. I looked at my coffee mug, then back at the pot, then back at the mug. I snapped out of my retardedness quickly and moved on to bigger problems like my clothes hanging in a difference place and the fact my morning routine at Dr. C�s apartment was always slightly different since I normally only spend Saturday and Sunday morning there, which means no deadlines to meet and no important place to be in the morning (i.e. work). Moving bulky furniture aside, the transition has been super on the commute and, of course, being able to spend a lot more time with Dr. C.

Monday brought an interesting difference into the mix when I did some laundry in the building. My old apartment had a washer and dryer in the apartment. I haven�t had to wash stuff in a laundry room since I was in college and quite frankly; going to the Laundromat was always a special occasion. It meant we could smoke in the facility and hang out with all the local mothers, listening to them talk about their hopes of winning the lottery, how their kids won�t do their homework, and about their brother/sister/mother/father who is in jail. I <3 those mothers.

I walked down into the basement of the building, put my quarters in, filled up the washing machines, and figured I would check back in about 25 minutes. 25 minutes went by and I walked downstairs to check the status. They were on the spin cycle so I figured it wouldn�t be much longer. What worried me was the fact that I heard the sound of water spewing from the machine. I stepped closer to the machines for further inspection and noticed that there was a hose running into the double-decker sink that was right next to it. The sink was huge and seemed to be dumping grounds for the washing machine water. The noise wasn�t coming from there though. I peered behind the machine to see a hose that was disconnected from the wall. Every five seconds or so, the hose would vomit soapy water right onto the floor, next to a strategically placed drain. I knew this couldn�t be a good thing. I was convinced I was going to be electrocuted if I touched the machine so I sort of started to do a cautious stepping motion while trying to decide what to do. I looked like I was getting ready to jump in on some mothers turning double-dutch, with the arms kinda stretched out and stepping back and forth to the rhythm of the ropes. Anyway, I decided that I�d wait out the spin cycle and just hope that when I unloaded my clothes I wouldn�t get shocked with however many volts of electricity. Of course, if the clothes were in my hands while I was shocked, I thought that in addition to frying my brain/hair, it would also dry the clothes. That would save me $1.25. Thanks electricity!

I was not shocked by the washing machine, but was shocked when I touched my clothes and they were steaming like lava. I forgot how mother fucking hot those clothes get when you put them on the normal drying cycle in public facilities. I cannot tell you how many times I burned myself on the zipper and/or button of my jeans. Denim and other clothing requiring metal fasteners/studs were not involved, but the rest of the clothes were still hot like whoa. I should have said something out load like, �my underwear are on FIRE!� or �HOT POTATO� (while throwing some undies in someone�s direction) but no one was around to appreciate it.

I folded those mothers, put them away, and I was off to find a new adventure that my new apartment building would have to offer. I no longer have to deal with gates, electronic key cards, or security cameras. Now I just have to worry about is getting shocked by the washing equipment. Pretty even trade I say. A couple more weeks and the move to Alexandria, part II begins. Part II will be when we actually move into the two-bedroom apartment. *AIR HORN* More closet space!!!!!!!!!

e.