Hello. I am somewhat moved in. Somewhat. Meaning not at all where I want to be.

Where do I want to be? In a spa. With a really attractive man that is trained in massaging. I am very, very, very, very, very, very sore right now.

Oh, and apparently, I’m allergic to dust. If I would have know this, I might have actually dusted my stupid room once or twice a week. How did I find this out? The gigantic horrifically swollen right side of my face. And my eyes starting to swell shut was kind of an indication as well.

I’ve smashed my fingers, dropped something on my foot, managed to steer a flat bed into countless numbers of walls (Kari finally said that I can’t try to drive the flat bed until I get a license), was attacked by spoons (why I decided to put them on top of a box in the closet, I’ll never know. You’d think I’d put them INSIDE the box) and amused my sister greatly when I tilted a laundry basket to move it and managed to spill all of the dust inside of said laundry basket over my face.

3 year old boys are very cute when they want to help you move. Unfortunately, they are not very helpful.

Yes, Eric did show up. I didn’t have much doubt about this, especially after Kari stopped talking to him for a day.

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