MI CASITA NUEVA!!!

In a crazy whirl-wind week, I bolted like a bat outta the hell that was my apartment, found a new one, signed the lease, moved in, and- most importantly- experienced my FIRST uninterrupted night of sleep in two months!! I feel like a new little human being, happy as a clam. Una lata: I tried, and it appears, failed at my epic battle to reclaim the deposit ($320, cash) for which I so valiantly fought that I'd paid when I moved into satan's lair. Ugh g.dammit. Seems as if strongly worded emails don't aptly get the point across. Not surprising- I think the evil step-sisters only respond to yelling, in-yo-face-bitch drama. I, for one, am not up for it; not a fan of confrontation whatsoever. So, I packed my mass of accumulated junk and peaced-out. No teary-eyes at this despedida. CHAO.

Luckily enough, I snagged a half day off work and LL (wonder of wonders, man of all men) took an hour-or-so off to help me. For the third time. He´s moved me from all THREE of my previous apartments here in STGO-- in SIX MONTHS. Without complaining once. Or judging me for my habit of hoarding. I wrote about this issue previously but Jesús Christo am I in in da red now. Boyfriend-Of-The-Year, 2009.

BUT- a typical Chilean curve-ball was thrown-- what happened was that when I got to the apartment at 9AM to drop some things off like I'd arranged, Carlos, the very sweet doorman of my new building says: "I can't let you in. The Señora has a problem with you." After having a minor coronary spasm, I call her in a panic and she goes:

"Well, I'm just really skeptical. I need X, X, X from you and I passed up so many other people who wanted the apartment who already had those things ready. I just don't know"

ME: (about to sell my soul/body if needed) "No, no problem, I can get it all for you right now, it's no problem, I promise, I'm really responsible blah blah blah nervous-panic-can't-stop-talking-B-takes over....

Señora: Convinced/annoyed/scared, says "Okay. I'll be there at 1:00." (Lie, didn't arrive til 2:00)

What else did I have to ask LL for??
1) A check for the guarantee (what? you think I have those here??)
2) To be my co-deudor.

D
E
B
I
T

Moral of the story:
I now, for the first time in my whole little life of nearly 24 years (B-day on the 9th peeps) have my OWN place to call home. My OWN things. My OWN bathroom, kitchen, floor, walls... I finally can arrive to the place where I house my junk and call it home. And mean it. I feel content, seriously content. I can't wait to keep unpacking. And I've totally consulted my lovely friend of Rainy City Style on design tips-- tricky for a studio apartment of less than 200 square-feet... Bring it on Polly Pocket.

And, yes, I did have some time on my hands so I moused this nice picture. Whud up Frank Lloyd Wright...