OTP, Yeah You Know Me

So here we are, just a hop-skip-and-a-jump away (literally) from Sandy Springs, the neighborhood of my adolescence.  Yes, we moved Outside The Perimeter of Atlanta, aka OTP.  We used to make fun of folks who lived OTP.  So far away from all the cool, non-chain stores, restaurants, and the like.  Not able to walk or bike anywhere.  But then we rarely took advantage of all that stuff.  I almost got ran over riding my bike a number of times, Mark hated walking places, we couldn’t go out that often because of our busy schedules and our tiny budget.  And then our friends moved up here, and my parents and brother and grandma live up here, and we’re really not that far away from our ITP friends, either. 

 I really like our new place, except for the kitchen which is nowhere near large enough to place/store/display all of our awesome food prepping/serving/dining wedding gifts.  And the bedroom is really small, too, but I’m thinking that’s a GOOD thing because it will force us to put our clothes away.  And at least we have a walk-in closet.  And a super huge bathroom that I loooove.  And a lil balcony.  So it’s good!  Oh, and we also have washer/dryer hook-ups that are…. get this, people… INDOORS, in the SAME room, and on the SAME level that we live on.  Big deal, you think?  Trust me, if you have spent the past 4+ years without that luxury, it is a big deal.  In Phoenix, our washer and dryer were outside.  I thought that was the strangest thing EVER.  Do I really want to be pulling clothes out of a dryer in 115 degree heat?  Nooooooooo!  Plus, the dryer didn’t actually work, so Mark rigged a hair dryer through the back of it to blow hot air on our clothes and I was convinced that we would catch our clothes on fire or electrocute ourselves in the rare Arizona rain showers or something.  Never happened, thankfully, but I never really stopped worrying about that.

And then our first Atlanta place had a washer on the top floor where we lived, but to get to the dryer we had to run outside and down a flight of stairs and it rains much more often in Atlanta than it does in Phoenix, so sometimes our freshly dryed clothes would get wet. Or we’d leave ’em down there and forget about them for a day.

And our most recent place had a washer and dryer side-by-side and indoors, which was indeed an improvement, but they were down in the garage, so we were always hauling laundry up and down stairs.  Totally not the end of the world, but our current place is still an improvement that I will gladly celebrate.  I’m much less likely to fall down the stairs now, or drop the laundry basket and send our clothes flying. 

The chore of unpacking is going slowly… I am easily distracted, so I’ll start on the kitchen, but then I run over to check my email, and then start unpacking in the office, and then I head to the bedroom to check on my napping cats, and start unpacking in there, and then remember the kitchen that I left half-finished, so I go back in there.  And then I’m surrounded by empty boxes, so I have to stop and break them down.  And then I’m hungry, and I need to go fluff my Comfy Sack.  Which, by the way, is the most awesome, comfortable sofa-lounge-y piece of furniture ever and you are all welcome to come over and experience it’s supreme comfy-ness.  Once I get everything unpacked.

Back to work.