My Divine Spot of Parking, Among Other Things

My last entry was written in poor taste. Bad form, Peter, bad form.

The leasing agent at S & I's new place called me on Tuesday to tell me that our credit was excellent and that the background checks were clean. I couldn't resist joking under my breath, "Whew! I was hoping that out-of-state felony hadn't hit my record yet..."

So! We're free and clear of all obstacles... Well, sort of. We have 1.5 months to figure out how we're going to a) catch Kiska, b) wrangle her into a carrier and c) transport her to the new place without her going supernova with fear. I'd hate to be the cause of a spontaneous singularity, especially if it occurs while I'm driving. I'm thinking I'll have to buy a couple of sedatives from the vet. Little Kiska is the most skittery thing I've ever seen. I do have a video that I took on Sunday of her being a sweetie pie that I used to prove to my parents that she does emerge from under the bed and act like a normal cat. Maybe I'll post it onto Youtube and bore the intertrons with this poorly-filmed 45-second clip. You'll get to hear my girlish voice talking baby talk to Kiska. How I managed to attract a singer, the world may never know.

Tuesday was a great day all around. Not only were we approved for our lease, but the Gods of Parking have deigned to award me my very own parking spot! Mine! All for me! No more tickets! I shall humbly face the DOT building and kowtow in thanks. Just in time, too.

I am so excited about sharing my life and my space with such a wonderful, fun, talented person. Afraid, but excited. I would never think of living with anybody else, and I wouldn't have agreed to this, even, if it weren't for one [insane] [incredible] [unbelievable] integral reason.

On the application, under the "why are you moving" question, S wrote: "Life's a-changin'.