Landing Feet First: "Your dishwasher is not a garbage disposal."

Yes, Mr. Landlord, I'm very much aware of this. Now, where do I sign?

Despite my disappointment at the thought of not be able to fill my dishwasher with large chunks of uneaten food in the near future, I signed the lease today on our new apartment. I get the keys after work on Friday!

I actually didn't disagree with or have a problem with any of the landlord's rules. The basement is locked after 10pm, so laundry has to be finished beforehand. We're not supposed to try to repair anything ourselves—this includes dead lightbulbs. (Which is a relief, considering the ceilings are like, 12 feet high.) And no dogs in the apartment—even visitors. This last one kind of sucks because Sammy is so cute and huggable and I'd love for him to run around when Matt's parents come to visit, but... apparently the last tenants got kicked out because they violated this rule. So Mr. Landlord is serious. And I like this apartment. Sorry, puppy.

I'M EXCITED to move in and unpack and be surrounded by all my things again. To be able to put tons of food in the fridge and use the bathroom whenever I want. To stop having to explain that I'm staying on 114th now, but won't be by the end of the week. This piece of information seems to baffle people.

I'm actually even anticipating dieting again. And working out. I looked into the gym that's down the street from the new place and it looks do-able. Way more expensive than Planet Fitness will ever be, but... until they put a PF in Washington Heights, I suppose I'll have to find somewhere else to work out. Matt has P90x and I have P90, but sometimes you just really need to get out and be with people. It's motivational, really. The girl next to you is speed walking at 4.5? Well then, you jog at 5.0. The man in front of you has been on the elliptical for how long? 15 minutes? Pfft, you've been going strong for at least 35 now. Motivation. Competition. Whatever you call it, it was working for me. And I miss it. Sure, I'm walking around a lot more than I was in W-B, but in-between all the walking are 20-minute subway rides. And if you're lucky, that involves a lot of sitting.

............ I just found a planet fitness 12 minutes from the apartment! Oh, Google. You and I are meant to be. Look:

And it's near Fort George, which is supposed to be fancy shmancy, so. This is exciting. I'll have to check it out!

It's so weird to think that a year ago, finding a gym close to where I lived wouldn't have phased me. Actually, a year ago, I was 40 pounds heavier and desperately trying to find a way to keep my relationship alive. Working out was the last thing on my mind. Today, the relationship's fine, and after the move, I can put all my efforts into staying healthy and working.

IT'S JUST SO... WEIRD. The way things have worked out. I'm overwhelmed with so many emotions when I think about how much my life has changed in the past month. Actually, it hasn't even been a full month yet. This time last month, I had just received the e-mail from my present coordinator asking me to come in for an interview. Who would have known that this much would unfold in such a short amount of time? Certainly not me. I was about two seconds away from feeling hopeless. Matt and I had talked about making the big move in September. And it's not even the middle of June yet and here I am, getting ready to move into an apartment of my own in Manhattan, with him trailing behind me soon. It's just... mind-blowing. It really is. I keep waiting to wake up, to realize that everything's been a big dream (like in the series finale of Roseanne. LAME.), but... it's not. It's real.

And the cherry on top the ice cream sundae that has become my life?

The dishwasher.

Which, in case you didn't hear, isn't a garbage disposal. Just FYI.

PS: If you're interested in seeing some pics of the area where we're living, I took a few while I was waiting outside the building for the broker today. Click the link below.