This weekend was moving weekend. Forty eight hours ago I was sleeping in my bedroom at my parents' house, and now I am living the life of luxury in these digs...
Is it fancy OR WHAT?! If I had a nickel for every time Michelle and I have used the words classy, sophisticated, grown up, adult, and elegant in this past two days, I would have enough money to shell out the fifteen bucks for the premium parking here.
When we had this little apartment photo shoot tonight, Michelle said, "I just want people to look at these pictures and think...Wow, she's really made it."
AND MADE IT WE HAVE.
We spent most of Saturday unpacking and hanging up various pieces of wall art, all of which were hung without the aid of a level or tape measure. We have become masters at the art of eyeballing it. Last night was our first night here, and we celebrated by playing Scattergories and watching Half Ton Teen and an episode of My Big Fat Gypsy Christmas. In other words, LIVING THE DREAM.
This whole weekend we have been calling ourselves the "Workin' Girls." We used the term frequently this morning as we strolled Home Goods because we are SO CLEVER.
"We can totally buy that vase! We're working girls!"
"You know who would have those flowers in their house? Working girls!"
We went to far as to make that the name of our wireless network and even contemplated sending out Christmas cards from "the Workin' Girls." Well, that grand idea was nipped squarely in the bud when my brother texted me tonight and said "you guys do know working girls is another name for hookers, right?"
Um, OBVIOUSLY WE DIDN'T.
Do you know what else we don't know? How to change the name of our wireless network. But I think that is something we better figure out AT ONCE, before our neighbors get the wrong idea about how we were able to afford such lovely wall art.
Goodbye, Workin Girlz. Hello, Career Women.