Girl(s) On The Move

Last night, as I dragged two suitcases full of books past the stinky pee corner by the 24-hour grocery store, trying to navigate each set of wheels around anything that looked like it came from a human body, a man startled me from my concentration.

"Girl on the move, huh!" he yelled, as we passed each other on the narrow sidewalk.

I smiled, then stumbled, having clipped my own heels with one of the bags. Passing a window, I glanced at my reflection to see what he saw. In fact, he probably thought I was a run-away. I was dressed in a pair of baggy BU soccer sweats, a long-sleeved tee and a red vest my grandmother gave me several years ago (yes, if you know me and have spent more than three consecutive days with me, you've probably seen me in this exact outfit). I looked 14 or 15 years old, suitcases teetering along as I descended one of Nob Hill's famous slopes en route to the new apartment for which Tiffany and I just signed a lease (unfortunately, for those not familiar with the area, the further "down" the hill you go, the more stinky pee corners there are, hence my careful steering).

Indeed, we are on the move, and, actually, we are sort of running away--fleeing the tap-tap-tap and thump-thump-thump of the pairs of feet that live above us; headed toward a top-floor slightly sunnier, slightly smaller, slightly cheaper place that happens to have a gigantic built in bookcase (of course, that sealed the deal for me--our own library!).

The move--only three blocks--is a cure for the temporary insanity that overtakes me whenever I hear the feet of the people above us in our current apartment. And it is a cure for the temporary insanity I cause Tiffany in my temporarily insane state. Fed up with waking in the middle of the night to find me poised, broomstick in hand, waiting for the next foot-fall so I can jab at the ceiling (yes, if you know me and have spent more than three consecutive days with me, you've probably seen me in this exact pose), Tiffany kindly told me we needed to move in order to preserve our happy-coupleness.

So, for our first official day as top-floor lessees, I'd crammed dozens of books into our carry-on wheelie bags. Everything else would slowly make the trip over the next two weeks. Since it was a special occasion Tuesday, I packed a bottle of Tiger beer and a can of Dr Pepper in the backpack I was wearing, nestling them between the Windex, the 409 and the roll of paper towels.

When I reached Tiffany, who was waiting outside our new front door, I could see she was giddy at the thought of the organizational task ahead of us. In fact, as soon as we finished cleaning, she started alphabetizing the books on the shelves.* I, on the other hand, was relegated to merely passing the books from the suitcases to her outstretched hand.

Tiffany pulled a special occasion treat out of her backpack too--our favorite children's books: my copy of The Little Prince and her copy of Hand, Hand, Fingers, Thumb. Her treat was neater than mine. Literally neater because I forgot to bring a bottle opener, and so, as we struggled--eventually successfully--to open her beer on the handle of one of our cabinets, we spilled some on the kitchen floor. No matter, that's what paper towels are for!

We toasted ourselves and sat down for a while in the place where our bed might go. I promised to try not to let the new noises that surely will accompany our new apartment bother me. Tiffany promised to use my money to buy me a pair of those gigantic padded headphones and push play on "Enya" if I break my promise. Then, on the move but not yet moved, we walked back up the hill for dinner.

*Please note, it has been brought to my attention that the title of my blog might make my beloved seem "nerdy." I wonder if this alphabetizing sentence might be further fodder for that line of thinking. Personally, I think the fact that my girlfriend is studying-- chemistry, anatomy, physiology and all the other sciences that I long ago learned did not come naturally to me--is awesome. That she loves to organize, alphabetize and sort--adorable.**
**I realize this makes me definitely nerdy.