Philadelphia; or, Overeating IS a healthy form of therapy

Predictably, the act of moving to Philadelphia has made me want to crouch in a corner and howl. We have plenty of corners in the new apartment so this has not presented a problem, although the neighbors are beginning to grumble. I’m not great with change, but I feel this is an acceptable way of dealing with it. Overeating is the next step, should this not pan out.

The move was grueling, and I’d like to recommend NEVER EVER EVER using google maps for anything EVER. Waste of internet space, they are, and that’s saying something. West Virginian mountains, after dark, directions to a trailer park instead of our hotel and of course we don’t have a cell phone – I’m still seeing red.

We live on the third floor of a lovely complex and couldn’t be much happier with our apartment, all things considered. No urine to clean off the bathroom floor, no sticky carpet, and sufficient space for the first time in the last five years.

Closets! There are enough of ’em to make me dizzy. I can walk right into two of them which were made that way ON PURPOSE, and with some effort, I can squeeze into the remaining four. Hours of sheer delight. (You think I’m kidding. I’m not.)

Operation Buy-the-same-IKEA-furniture-as-your-friends-and-try-to-make-it-look-like-you’re-not-copying-them is going swimmingly. Our friends will NEVER KNOW.

How many damn books do we have? Concerned Sister, I think I have your copy of Der Richter und sein Henker. You’ll be happy to know we DO in fact have Vanity Fair, Sickly Child, so we don’t need your castoffs. It’s not all The Prayer of Jabez for Women and The Satanic Bible here. We’re classy folk. Why do we have two of A Soldier of the Great War? Truth, beauty, blah blah blah; get over yourself, Mark.

The story of the move would be boring, but here are some highlights using Maxwell Maxington Poopinghouse the Third as a paid model:



Last evening out at Nick’s in Bloomington. We asked our toothy waitress to take a picture of us, and this is what we got.


ENDLESS HOURS OF TOIL LATER: Our building is on the left, and our apartment on the third floor at the end.


We’re at the top, and that’s my bike on our terrace. The next two windows are the study and the bedroom.


Finally empty. We were so incredibly disgusting and tired and had drunk between the two of us 224 oz of Gatorade plus water and soda. I peed lemon-lime for the next 48 hours.


Yes, Max, I think they’re on to us. Play dead!


Good boy.



~ by themeansister on August 25, 2009.

7 Responses to “Philadelphia; or, Overeating IS a healthy form of therapy”

  1. I think your blue toilet and our green stove should get married.

  2. Glad to see the move went well but come on no moving pictures of shirtless dudes biceps damp and glistening, abs… well you know?

    “No urine to clean off the bathroom floor, no sticky carpet, and sufficient space for the first time in the last five years.”

    I once looked at an apartment where the bathroom stank of urine worse than a homeless man on a bender. The girl showing me the place said,

    “Yeah it smells like piss. I’ve tried steaming the room and scrubbing everything with every chemical combination save Zyclone B and DDT and it still smells like piss. I think it’s in the tile. You’ll get used to it.”

    Incidentally this was not why I didn’t take that particular apartment.

    It’s good to know any filth in your home is purely your own.

  3. And then they would have blue and green tie dyed appliance babies.

  4. I am pretty sure we looked at those apartments. How’s philly? What is your email address? I want to email you and introduce you (via email, of course) to friends. Have you found a church?

  5. also, the IKEA in Conshohoken (that spelling doesn’t look right…) has an incredible AS-IS section. Don’t pass it by. We have gotten MANY wonderfully scratched pieces there for DIRT cheap.

  6. I want to know why Harriet so rarely makes an appearance. Does she not photograph well? Always looks fuzzy?

  7. Wow–so big!

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