Finally, right?!

Okay okay, I'm back. And I come bearing pictures of Erica and mine's new apartment in South Pasadena.

Front entrance to the building

Our door

Living room, very sparsely furnished--notice the complete lack of chairs...

Sofa::Craigslist, Table::Craigslist

Windows galore

Dining room/office space/study area/storage of my things

More of my things

Bookshelf::IKEA

The kitchen {sigh} -- I love it

Hallway, with Erica's room on the right

The bathroom -- yellow and cream tile with stenciled ivy across the top of the walls (That will probably get painted over very soon)

The sink -- hot water faucet, cold water faucet. Getting lukewarm water is very near impossible.

My room from the doorway

Oval mirror::Craigslist

One window, a closet, and a bookshelf.

Bookshelf::IKEA

{Light shining down from heaven on my two closets} Dos closets. So excellent.

Some of my little friends

Oh yes. Don't worry, I wasn't terrified the entire time.

My trip to the Alhambra ER. Obviously it was a life or death situation because we found time to take pictures to document this momentous event.

So yeah. The ER. Don't worry about me trying to be a good roommate and washing all the glasses before using them. Or about one slipping and cutting my finger. Or that Erica and I rinsed off all the other glasses before tending to my bleeding finger and shattered glass in the sink. Or that I didn't have an insurance card with me and I took all my Blue Cross Blue Shield information into the hospital on a scratch piece of paper. Not fishy at all. I'm sure my Mom loved how I called her and said, "Mom...I cut my finger. And it's bleeding real bad. I think I need stitches." But all this was said in a high voice and every sentence was said like it was a question. I think I was slightly delirious from my extreme loss of blood (not really) because we had a good time in the car on the way to Alhambra Hospital that carried into the ER, where Erica and I became mini-celebrities because we were from Hawaii. Andddd, to top it off, the woman who made me sign some papers? Yeah, her daughter just graduated from Samford's business school last year. Smalllll world over here in South Pas.

Also, a little story about the movers. They came last Friday. It was two youngish guys, a teenage girl, and a middle school age boy. Quite an interesting group. Anyway, they started bringing things up and when he asked where the headboard went, this dialogue happened.

"That's not mine. And neither is that suitcase." (panic starts to show on the mover's face as I talk)

"You are not Lancaster?"

"Ummm, no." (my own panic starts to set in)

"You're not moving from Chicago?"

"No. From Alabama. Birmingham Alabama. Alabama!!" (anxiety creeps into my voice)

Well, they came to us first. When they were supposed to come to us third. Greatttt. So, good news, our things were on that truck, they were just in the middle of it. They came back the next day, sans one of the guys and the teenage girl, and unloaded everything. At the end of the move, the boy child says, "Enjoy your life." Erica and I look at each other and mouth "Enjoy your life? What?" As the guy and the kid are walking down the stairs, we hear the guy say "Enjoy your life? What does that mean?" Thanks EZ Movers. A couple days of panic was worth it for that parting exchange.

All in all, The Big Move is complete. Now we just need chairs...