So, here I am, writting away on my laptop (care of my work, or you, the taxpayer), sitting in my bed, in my bedroom, in my new apartment. Well then.

See, no one ever told be about this. The whole, moving in together thing. The whole combining of possessions things. Hm. Though last weekend was the 'official' move - this is, the move of the things in the last apartment, this weekend was spent litterally driving from one end of the province to the other, gathering other stuff stored at our respective parents places. And that, my friends, has not be fun.

I find myself territorial. Having never shared living space with anyone before, I find some of the... decor choices a bit.... disturbing. For instance, there is one thing in particular that bothers the hell out of me. If any of you come to visit, you'll get three chances to guess (or maybe I'll post a few pictures, and have a poll). Another problem is that I came into this is virtually no real furniture of my own, so we have had to rely on Mr. Wonderful's collection. This is fine, but I find that the apartment looks like his than mine. But what does it matter? It doesn't really, and it's nothing a few glasses of wine won't fix.

Speaking of furniture, I bought a crap-ass dresser at Walmart, and I might toss it out the window soon. Everytime I open a drawere, *thud*, it falls of it's track. It is very, very, very frustrating. I bought it because it matched my headboard, and was cheap, but now I'm afraid I may need to look for a more expensive version - one that pre-assembled, even.

It's almost midnight, so I think it's time to head to bed.