Bryan's last day at work was this past Sunday, my last day at work was this past Thursday. We signed the lease on the condo yesterday, and the movers are set to arrive at 9:00 AM on the 12th. Our only job for the next 12 days is to purge-n-pack.
I'm really excited for the purge part, since we have so much stuff. Since we both worked right up until the day we moved last time, we didn't have much time for purging, and as a result, moved a bunch of stuff we didn't really need anymore. Since we have the time this time, we're cutting hard and cutting deep. If anyone is interested, we'll be having a little open house where our friends and family will have first crack at anything we don't want anymore. Whatever's left at the end of the day goes to Goodwill.
Holy shit, we're really doing this! Eep!
Um, yeah. I got my job, too!
Bryan got the job! :D
I have my second interview on Monday. I know my first interview went really well, and they were impressed with my writing sample (it's call center work, but they also answer questions via chat and email). I'm optimistic - fingers crossed!
Yesterday was a big day for us. We both had job interviews in Madison (mine was a first, Bryan's was a followup) and we looked at the condo of our longing.
My interveiw was fantastic, and I think I'm definitely in the running.
Based on the feedback we heard from Bryan's first interview, we thought he might have had an offer yesterday, but they showed him around the office, showed him where his desk would be, introduced him to people who would be on his team, then told him it was between him and one other person and that he should have an answer by Wednesday.
The condo? Oy. We loved it. We loved the manager. But it turns out we have a few things going against us:
I'm nervous.
While I'm at it, I have a rant about credit bureaus. Bryan and I are two of the few people in the world who realize that credit cards just don't work for us and we're much better off financially we use cash and debit, so we choose not to have credit cards. However, one of the things that was listed as a negative on both our credit reports was "lack of premium bankcards." So here we are, trying to be responsible and not rack up a bunch of debt that we can't pay off, and it's working against us?
Now, I realize that a "lack of premium bankcards" could mean to some companies that we simply can't get one and would therefore be a bad risk. Because really, it's not that hard to get a card. But to be making an attempt to be fiscally responsible by not having one and having it work against you is really frustrating.
We really want that condo, and I'm trying really hard to believe that it will happen, but I'm not keeping my hopes up. *sigh*
Bryan and I are well aware that if we don't get the condo, it is the direct result of our own actions, so it's not like I'm saying any of this is unfair, per se, but it still sucks.
Through a series of events and discussions, Bryan and I have decided to pack up and move to Madison. I've wanted to live there for 5+ years, he's wanted to live there for 20. We're not happy where we are, we are stagnating.
D recently blogged about the anticipation of a much-desired move. I understand. Not about the kids, since I don't have any, but about feeling like the walls are closing in on you. One of the reasons I'm so excited about the move to Madison is that I feel like this town is bringing me down. Unfortunately, even though I'm close to my friends at work - this is the closest-knit bunch of coworkers I've ever had - I can't bring myself to actually tell them for fear I'd offend them. A lot of them grew up around here, and I see them more than I see any of my non-work friends, so they're naturally some of the people I share my joys and sorrows with. But every time I talk about how excited I am I feel like I'm just some uppity New Yorker who can't stand small-town Midwest living. And I love it in Wisconsin, I really do, but this town just doesn't do anything for me.
I love these people dearly - I thought I was close to some of the people I used to work with, but it's never been like this. And I feel like I'm putting them down every time I talk about my excitement. So, internet, I guess I'll share it with you.
I'm so excited to be moving to a town with CULTURE. A town where we can go to a great Farmers' Market, where we can join a CSA, where we can have fresh, local milk, eggs, cheese and bacon delivered to our door on a weekly basis. A town where I don't feel so overwhelmed by the possibility of... dare I say it... going back to school (even if it's online rather than actual classes). A town where every time I sit down at my computer I'm not saddened by memory of this being the room where I found out my Grandmother died. The room where I bawled my eyes out while on hold waiting for a ticket agent to book my flight home for the funeral. A town where Bryan and I were so miserable when we first moved here that we were initially unsure as to whether we'd make it as a couple. A town where one of my best friends used to live, but moved away after getting a fabulous new job.
I love our apartment, but it has too many bad memories and too few good ones. This apartment has never actually felt like home. It's a great apartment, but I just don't think it's "ours." While it's more than adequate in size, it Just. Doesn't. Fit.
If D doesn't mind (and D, if you do, I'll take it down), I'll quote her here:
I cannot live in this house. I cannot breathe in this house. I cannot drive these roads and shop in these stores for the rest of my life. Is it running? Is it folly to think that these boxes can possibly represent the beginning of a new beginning? Who? What? Where? When? Why? We will all be the same people, even when we meet the boxes on the other side. Am I setting myself up for disappointment and failure yet again? Can moving heal as well as destroy?
I'm looking at this move as a fresh beginning. I have so many hopes for this move - a fresh start not the least of them. And I hope I'm healed rather than destroyed in the process.
So... Bryan and I recently purchased our first brand new (as opposed to "new-to-us") "real" piece of "grown-up" furniture, a beautiful Chesterfield Bar.
Since it weighs just under 100lbs., it had to be shipped via freight. The confirmation e-mail I received stated that we would be contacted to schedule delivery, and that delivery times are Monday-Friday, either 8-noon or 1-5. Easy enough, we both have Fridays off. Right? Right??
Yeah, notsomuch.
Last Wednesday morning, we were contacted by a representative from the freight company at approximately 8:30 AM. We were told that delivery would take place Thursday between 1 and 5. Well, we're both at work on Thursday between 1 and 5, so Bryan asked if we could reschedule for Friday (you know, since we were told we'd have the opportunity to "schedule" the delivery). Not only was the answer a resounding "no," but we were also told that someone would need to be home to help them unload it from the truck (after I paid quit a bit for delivery to begin with). Not to mention, the rep was pretty snotty about it, too.
Bryan was fortunate enough to be able to get the day off, but only because he also happened to be nursing a terrible cold and wound up calling in sick anyway. They delivered the box and he got it up the stairs and into the apartment by himself - no small feat considering the size and weight.
When I got home from work, I noticed that there was something drawn on the box. I don't know who did it, whether it happened at the warehouse or in transit, but on the box is a pen-and-ink picture of.. ummm... ahem... male genitalia. With flames shooting out the back of the... ummm... let's just say "twins."
On Friday night, one of my friends christened it "The Cockrocket."
Definitely an interesting experience all around.