As predicted, the new homeowner adventures continue. Over the past few weeks, I've done the following:
1. Found myself sitting on a folding chair staring at my washing machine through an entire cycle to see where the water leak was occurring and thinking, "This is my life now." (Fun fact: It wasn't the washing machine, it was my floor drain backing up).
2. After a particularly long and exhausting weekend of moving and cleaning, due to desperation and a poorly stocked fridge, had a piece of coconut cream pie and a beer for dinner.
3. Had to drink a glass of wine before feeling courageous enough to clean Cobweb City out of the basement closet.
But one of the dumbest things yet is how I've managed to scare the shit out of myself by literally forgetting that I live in a house now. I'm so accustomed to being in an apartment and hearing noises (including running water) from my neighbors on either side, that this happens:
1. I flush my toilet, wash my hands, and wander into the kitchen for something.
2. I hear the water running on the other side of the kitchen wall and think, "Oh, someone must be taking a shower."
3. I think, "Wait . . . I live alone. OMG, WHO THE F*CK IS IN THE SHOWER?!"
And the sad thing is that I've gone through this terrifying two-second thought process more than once. In fact, I've had to fight the urge to flee my own home due to accurately functioning plumbing several times.
But I'm still here, folks. Just me and the spiders.