The new apartment is brand-new, wonderful and way too small for the amount of crap Mikey and I have obtained in our five years of cohabitation. Unpacking is still happening, as the CDs have only been shelved through the letter "S," with a few gaps that are probably in the other boxes. Now I understand why one of my writing teachers back in the undergrad days offered me money to alphabetize his record and CD collection. The man is a revered rock critic and his collection makes me look as if I only buy two-three records a year. But I digress.
I love Philadelphia. I didn't realize how much I missed urban living until I began experiencing it again. Walk a few blocks to the video store. Walk to the drugstore down the block. Walk. Walk. Walk. If this helps me shed the southern pounds, boy will I be grateful. The one thing I didn't miss about urban living, however, is the distinct cutting feeling one gets in one's hands from hauling groceries in their plastic bags from the market to one's apartment. It's a pain I never had to experience in Athens, and one I had all but forgotten about. It's back, but I'll take the bad with the good.
I already have a network of friends here. Simon LeBon has taken me under his wing and invited me along to outings with the linguists. It's fun. I'm catching up on some leisure reading and slowly unpacking. One thing we do need, however, is a bed. The futon was a novelty to sleep on for a week or so, but now I'm craving a real mattress. I think we'll have to go look at mattresses this week and report back to my mother, who is buying me a bed as a graduation gift.
I think I'm going to like it here. Let the Philly Phun begin!