This past New Year's Eve, I predicted that this would be the year we moved out of our apartment. I hadn't planned on seeing that prediction come true quite so quickly, but that's the way it worked out and I can't say that Christina or I are sorry about it. So this was the scene on Saturday, when we moved the last of the boxes to the new house and gave the apartment a once-over with sponge, broom, and vacuum cleaner.
Cleaning out the drip pan in the freezer was pretty nasty, but the main task was getting all of the cat dander out of the carpet. I'm pretty sure I vacuumed up two or three Suzies worth of cat hair. I don't have many illusions about getting much of our deposit back; we left some pretty nasty holes in the walls and the carpet was trashed after six years of kitty cat abuse. Maybe they'll chalk some of that up to normal wear and tear, maybe not. I think all we care is that we're rid of the place.
There were some good times had there, true (there's still glitter in the the front door screen from Niki's glitter hair spray at New Year's), but like a ratty old pair of sneakers, sometimes things -- and places -- just have to be let go.
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