All day Saturday, in your comfy blue pants, your too long Hard Rock Cafe Mexico shirt and your Canada Hockey baseball cap, walking with bags in hands out of my apartment, down the hall, into the lobby, down the stairs, across the road, down the alley, across the other road, into the new lobby, up the new elevator, down the new hall and into the new apartment.
Trip after trip after trip.
Ready to sleep by 4:30
The arrival of a friend with a van sparks a bit more speed but conversation tends to take over.
And then the realisation that the last ice hockey game of the season is on in Belfast.
A mad rush to find out who wants to go. A dash to the box office to buy 6 tickets, a mental scramble to finish cleaning the old kitchen, eat chinese food amongst boxes and bags in our new apartment and frantically tidy ourselves up for a night out.
Livening up at the game and the glee of realizing they have gin and tonics NOT just beer, although at the last 4 games you've suffered through with lager.
Party party at the dance bar later, where you wait anxiously at the bottom of the stairs for the top bar to open so you can make a mad dash to get a seat. Happy days when you're one of the first and find ample room for all 6.
Dance, laugh, sing, drink, shout over the music and stumble home, stopping by the chinese place again for fries and gravy.
Chat, laugh at the new place with friends waiting for cabs and finally drag your feet into the two bedrooms to make up the beds you ignored while busy getting ready for a night out.
Crash into your pillow, fall asleep with deep deep dreams of nothingness.
Wake up, head fuzzy, throat sore from the smoke and the yelling, body aching from the multiple trips from old tiny place to new spacious place.
Finally, after boys take off to watch the grand prix, you sit with a cup of tea in your hand in your new window sill, looking down on the world below in quiet and peaceful tranquility.
Gazing around the apartment with a drunk smile sliding across your face, you scrunch your eyebrowns in confused horror.
Am I now owner of all those plants?
Trip after trip after trip.
Ready to sleep by 4:30
The arrival of a friend with a van sparks a bit more speed but conversation tends to take over.
And then the realisation that the last ice hockey game of the season is on in Belfast.
A mad rush to find out who wants to go. A dash to the box office to buy 6 tickets, a mental scramble to finish cleaning the old kitchen, eat chinese food amongst boxes and bags in our new apartment and frantically tidy ourselves up for a night out.
Livening up at the game and the glee of realizing they have gin and tonics NOT just beer, although at the last 4 games you've suffered through with lager.
Party party at the dance bar later, where you wait anxiously at the bottom of the stairs for the top bar to open so you can make a mad dash to get a seat. Happy days when you're one of the first and find ample room for all 6.
Dance, laugh, sing, drink, shout over the music and stumble home, stopping by the chinese place again for fries and gravy.
Chat, laugh at the new place with friends waiting for cabs and finally drag your feet into the two bedrooms to make up the beds you ignored while busy getting ready for a night out.
Crash into your pillow, fall asleep with deep deep dreams of nothingness.
Wake up, head fuzzy, throat sore from the smoke and the yelling, body aching from the multiple trips from old tiny place to new spacious place.
Finally, after boys take off to watch the grand prix, you sit with a cup of tea in your hand in your new window sill, looking down on the world below in quiet and peaceful tranquility.
Gazing around the apartment with a drunk smile sliding across your face, you scrunch your eyebrowns in confused horror.
Am I now owner of all those plants?
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