Adj.

Delightful
"I'm moving tomorrow!" I chirped to the front desk attendant, a lovely woman who gave me directions when I first checked in, always hands me my mail when I trudge through the lobby and smiled her congratulations at news of my closing on my beautiful house tomorrow. I have packed up and loaded my car, ready (and eager!) to drive to the final walk through once I wake up and grab the last of my things. I'm growing to love this room now, once emptied of my belongings and filled with the knowledge that I get to leave it soon.

"Thank you," I told the man on the phone. He'd come to fix my attic window - source of the leak and subsequent mold fiasco - and said it wasn't properly caulked. He'd taken care of it, he told me, and now I was all set. "I left Realtor a check for you," I told him and frowned when he said he didn't want money. "But," I protested as I rode in the car with Friend, "you fixed a big problem for me and I'd like to give you something for your time and trouble." I paused again to listen, thanked him again and shrugged at Friend. "He wouldn't take money," I told her. "Southern people are beyond lovely."

For about $300 and 3 hours (round trip), I can go visit Friend or she can come here. While we did snap at each other a few times - when someone gets snippy with me, I react strongly and similarly - I did love spending time with her.

A houseful of stuff is heading north in a truck. I am neither sore nor overly exhausted, having sat and read books while the movers packed. I understand this method is rather expensive - having guys pack your possessions, loading the truck, driving the truck, unloading the truck and unpacking your stuff. But Industry is footing the bill and I rather adore the whole idea.

My paper is ready to resubmit. Boss and I hugged when we saw each other on Monday and he introduced me to my replacement as he held my hand. I leaned into his side and curled my fingers around his palm and smiled at the woman who'll sit at my desk. He and Jill talked about how wonderful I was and how proud they were of me. We later sat a table and went over revisions and he pronounced it ready for resubmission before I kissed his cheek and took my leave. I don't miss working for him, but I do love him.

Sub-Optimal
My plane was a bit delayed last night. Not weather, nor schedules, nor mechanical difficulty. It was two men who stumbled upon the aircraft, laughing loudly about how they'd been paged for the flight. "Is there beer service?" one immediately asked and I frowned darkly in disapproval. They were medical students - residents, perhaps - talking about how much they hated their pediatric rotation. I hated them with a passion and hoped bad things happened to them.

The movers left me in a mostly empty house and smelling rather icky (It had been hot and I did work a little bit) on Tuesday evening. When Friend suggested I shower before she arrived to fetch me, I told her I'd packed my shower curtain and all the towels. She sighed at me. So I decided to get clean anyway. It is, just so you know, not great to get the bathroom wet as water splashed out of the tub unimpeded. It's even worse to scurry through your empty house, shielding your body with a shirt, to get paper towels from the kitchen with which to dry off. I did have clean clothes to put on, but no brush for my hair. So I'm going to proclaim showering without the necessary tools non-ideal.

I left my camera cord - from the camera I dearly love and obtained from Repressed Librarian - buried in a bag. So no pictures for another day or so.

Comforting
"I'll be there the whole week," Dad assured me. I have to travel next week and Chienne's fence doesn't go in until next Friday. I'm sure we'll find problems to fix and purchases to make and it'll be nice not to be alone.

Rather Sad
That I'm nearly 30 and I need my dad to come stay with me. Because I'm all alone.

Interesting
I was asked for advice today - interview tips from a graduating member of my old research group - and I referred to my blog. I find one of the things that bugs me when I don't write (as in the last few days) is that I don't have records of what I thought. And though it happens rarely, sometimes I go back and take sections out when I want them again.