Movin' on up. And out.

The apartment search didn't last much more than a few weeks before I knew I'd found my new home. A large two-bedroom (for the price of 1BR) with walk-in closets, a balcony, a big kitchen and breakfast bar, fantastic management, tons of storage, and did I mention the walk in closet? I could fit a queen size bed in that closet! Well, I could have, before I filled it with shoes.

With the first of the month being a Monday, and that particular Monday being a dinner party with some of my fav friends from my Bible study in Winona, I didn't move in until Tuesday. By moving in on Tuesday I mean I picked up a bed and brought in a suitcase. And an espresso machine.

It's amazing what little you need to live on when you're traveling or without a permanent residence. I spent eight weeks this fall living out of a suitcase. It made me wonder why I owned so much stuff back home. It probably made my whole family wonder why I made them pack it into a truck and trailer and haul it down last Saturday. But when you know you own that many pairs of fabulous shoes, you start to miss them.

I've been told my shoe ownership/obsession is a little out of control, so let's move on. Tuesday night I went grocery shopping for the basics. I still haven't gone all out on baking goods, cause that's a whole other subject we could get carried away on. Jake, exploring my new apartment that evening, was a little skeptical of the contents in my fridge. "Are you sure the rabbits haven't worn off on you?" My psuedo-vegetarian habits must not be contagious yet.

The rest of the week I spent running to Walmart, organizing, running back to the store, re-organizing, more shopping. The whole family came down Saturday with furniture and the rest of my earthly possessions. We set up and unpacked and hung pictures and went searching for more furniture. I now own a dining room table. It's beautiful, and it makes me feel like I'm actually an adult. An adult who owns a table. It's funny, the little things that make or break a label. For me I guess it's a dining room table.

Well anyway. My to-do list isn't getting any shorter. I promise these pictures are merely a teaser of what's to come. (My apologies, too, the rest of the pictures won't load. Might have something to do with stealing internet from a mystery neighbor somewhere in my building.)

I'm no mechanic

I hate auto stores. I don't like the way they smell, I don't believe they sell anything of interest, and I know mechanics/salesmen can immediately peg me as the girl who knows nothing about cars. I will now withhold my diatribe about sexists because, in this case, I am the stereotypical female. I believe this is why, when bringing my car in for repairs, I hear ridiculous price quotes like $300 to fix a car window. Not that I'm bitter, but you can read about that here.

I bring this up because my windshield wiper was broken when I turned my car on last Sunday. Not a big deal, I know it's inexpensive and easy to fix, but the rubber blade tapped my windshield the entire ride from the cities to Winona. Annoying. I ignored it for the week because the weather was fine and I didn't care that much but decided to tackle the project myself this weekend.

My first step was finding a (male) friend willing to help if the going got rough. Check.
Second step: figure out what type of blades you need. Said male friend suggested the car manual.

You guys. Car manuals are ridiculous. Have you ever read yours? There is just a wealth of knowledge to be found. Including, but not limited to (and i quote:)
"Avoid running out of fuel"
"Horn: press the steering wheel pad. The horn can be operated when the ignition is off."
And I thought I knew nothing about cars. There's also great stuff about not locking children in the trunk on hot days.

Although the manual offered great advice about all sorts of car-related issues, there was nothing as to what specific wiper blades one should buy for their little black ford focus. It took me two days to make myself go to Fleet Farm. Fleet Farm is kinda up there with auto stores and Menards, and I don't like it. It took me about 12 minutes to stare at all the wipers which looked exactly the same (is that like men saying all black shoes look the same? I will never know.) and not finding my exact car in the handy dandy manual attached to the counter. So I found the closest thing, some other kind of Ford Focus, and then I found what seemed to be matching blades. I left as fast as I could. Being distracted and uninterested in my purchase, I didn't pay much attention when the wiper blades rang up at about half the price they should be. Not one to argue a good deal, I paid the quoted price and left the store before realizing the ammount my reciept said I paid was nearly twice what I actually forked over. I'm slightly confused why the cashier told me $5.76 when clearly the blades cost $10.99 and I do feel a little bad for not going back in to actually pay the correct price. But not bad enough to go back into an auto-like store. For wiper blades of all things.

Anyway, we're on to step four now. I got home and looked at my windshield. I even lifted up the blades. I don't get it. I fidgeted with the stupid thing for about 42 seconds, threw the new blades back in the car and went inside. I know I've put one back on once, but I don't remember how or when or why.

A few hours later, after two male friends offered to help me later tonight, I am determined to do this thing on my own. It's simple. I go back out to my car. Lift blades. I even manage to get one blade off. There are now three pieces to deal with and the one that's supposed to attach my car's blade to the new one makes no sense to me. It doesn't fit with the others. I don't get it. I was out there for about ten minutes, looking like an idiot in my driveway staring at my windshield and trying to fit little pieces together.

I have finally decided that I either broke something or I bought the wrong blades. It's ridiculous. I'm begrudgingly going to get said male friends to look at the stupid thing tonight, and then probably end up back at Fleet Farm paying some odd price for more windshield wiper blades. My car currently has one broken blade infront of the passenger seat, and no blade at all infront of the drivers'.

This is why I stick to buying shoes.

Take a Holiday in Spain...

My bags are packed and I'm ready to go.... atleast they were yesterday. I had finally decided to be the girl with the ridiculous suitcase, even if it means packing and pulling a bag that's nearly half my size. But the bag was a mere three pounds under the 50lb limit, so I'm guessing I might have to vote a few sorry tops, accessories, or books off the island. I may love shoes but I refuse to pay extra fees for a heavy bag. Insert disclaimer here: there will only be four pairs of shoes in my bag, and three of those are flipflops, which mean they don't count as real shoes and therefore I am only packing one pair of shoes. Be impressed.
My sister is coming over this afternoon for a glorious Memorial Day bbq that I'm really looking forward to. I'm also planning on taking a portion of her closet with me while making her help me weed out unnecessaries. My other sister is out of town, as she has been the last two or three times I've come home. I'm starting to sense a pattern, but have decided to follow by example and up and leave the country.
Becky and I leave early tomorrow afternoon. More updates to come!