Just made it out alive

The move has been made.

Last night, around 3 a.m., Kyle and I finished cleaning the hell out of the rental house and came home - to OUR home.

Of course, in our imaginations, it was going to be a magical moment. Maybe some champagne (or beer). Maybe some romance. Our first night in our new home!

In reality, it was more like this: barely speaking, driving separate cars packed to the gills (with . . . what is all this shit?), one livid with rage and the other miserable and just trying to make it out alive, both sweaty, filthy and exhausted; eventually we make it, take what feels like a camp shower (where the hell did we pack the towels?) and drop into bed.

On the plus side, the kitchen looks fabulous!

In what is possibly the worst timing ever, we're laying the wood floor in the living room and the house's only hallway - tomorrow. Our friend who's helping us (he's done this before) needs to do it this weekend, so you don't turn gift horses away. Something like that.

In the meantime, I insist that you enjoy this "conversation" between Paris Hilton and some musician named Benji that she's dating, courtesy of my favorite fashion blog, Go Fug Yourself.