…Clearly I need to practice this blogging/writing thing, because I am ALL over the place.

But I do have a great story to tell about our first night in the new apartment. Have you ever had those days where you feel like your  life is straight out of a sitcom? Like, the things that happen are so hilariously unlucky that it couldn’t possibly be real life except it TOTALLY IS and it’s your life and you can’t figure out whether you want to laugh or cry because your day was that ridiculous? That was our first night in this apartment.

Ben and I had driven to the old apartment to load up my car with totes for a final trip that night. As we were approaching the front door, a white ghost of a cat was standing about two feet away—staring at us. I had seen her multiple times before when we would take walks in the park behind the complex, disappearing behind trees as soon as she spotted us. But that was the closest she had EVER been and before she could run off, I squatted down and cooed at her. She seemed uncertain at first but finally came up to me and immediately rubbed up against my hands. I was prepared to leave it at that despite my enormous weakness for animals.

“Let’s take her inside and give her some food!” gushed Ben, and my defenses against stray cats crumbled just like that. So, I picked her up and followed him inside. She ate a little over a half can of wet food before Ben and I stopped her; she was nothing but skin and bones, and I figured she had the potential to get sick if she ate too much too fast. She kept rubbing up against me even after, really affectionate. And then it occurred to me that it likely meant she had fleas. I asked Ben to look up signs of fleas and he told me to look for pepper on her belly, which was obviously there. So, fleas.

Concerned for our two felines at the new apartment and not wanting to release the poor stray back into the wild, we decided to lock her in the bathroom for the night with our spare litter box along with some food and water. We briefly discussed a game plan which was—take the two totes that would fit in the car, put them in the car, shake/brush ourselves off to reduce fleas, drive to new apartment, immediately run upstairs to shower, unpack car, take stray cat to the humane society in the morning. It was a solid plan.

Until we got upstairs in the new apartment to shower. When I turned the shower on, water immediately began gushing out at the ceiling. It didn’t even occur to me to shut it back off. I looked at Ben somewhat blankly and very calmly asked, “Why is this happening?” He looked at me like I was crazy and told me to turn it off, which I did, and then went to tighten it since we figured it was just loose. It was looser than we thought. It came apart in Ben’s hands. Like, the showerhead crumbled into five different pieces. We took a bath instead.

And when we got out of the bath, we realized that our towels were still packed away somewhere. All we had to dry off with was paper towels, which were downstairs on the counter. In perfect view of our sliding glass door which, unfortunately, wasn’t getting blinds until a few days later. Ben army-crawled downstairs, naked, grabbed the paper towels and then ran back up the stairs using the towels as a makeshift loin cloth. We dried off, got dressed in our pajamas and collapsed on the floor where we slept for the night.

I promise you I’m not making a word of it up.

Haha— oh boy. This is a great first impression.