Transplanted Life
Sunday, June 27, 2004
It's somewhat disheartening that Carter and I can pack up to move with so little aggravation. A year ago, I needed tons of boxes, one of those Door-To-Door storage units, and I had to sell furniture. Today, I went to the comic shop to buy a long box and was able to fit most of the comics, DVDs, CDs, and paperbacks I've bought since waking up in this body in there. I've still got the original packaging for the DVD player. I don't know what to do with the futon and the dresser; I suppose I could be like the college kids and just leave them by the street for scavengers to take, but that seems more than a bit wasteful. Carter and I got all of our clothes except for enough for the next three days into garbage bags. The fridge is mostly bare (the normal state with one of us working in a restaurant and the other in a supermarket; we just bring home enough for the next day), and we've got the dishes packed away.

Now we just need someplace to move our stuff to. I'm sorely tempted to call Natalya, but it doesn't seem right. And, damn it, it shouldn't be so difficult to find a place to live. I've paid my rent on time, I'll be getting the security deposit from this place back (because, frankly, I'm leaving it better than I found it), and even just looking at how we've lived as Michelle and Samantha, Carter and I have been hardworking and dependable. I almost wonder if Michelle doesn't have a broken lease somewhere in her past that's scaring landlords off.

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