The obligatory Oakwood post

So I've been here in the DC area with my husband, who will remain nameless, for about a week now.  We're staying in Oakwood furnished apartments (the mothership, in case any of you reading this are familiar with the Foreign Service - and if you're not, it's where the FS puts up employees while they're in training).  It seems the "thing to do" is to complain about Oakwood - and to be fair, it's hotel-like, temporary and I've heard some legitimate horror stories from other locations.

I just can't bring myself to.  I swear to God, every time I sink into those down pillows at night and pull that fluffy, white comforter over my shoulders, I feel like a goddamned princess.  Here I am in this place with everything I need - FOR FREE - and I've done nothing to deserve it (ok, I guess I passed the OA, which is what my husband did to deserve it, but my employment hasn't kicked in yet, so nyah).  We have a couch!  I can't believe I ever used to nap on my bed!  We have a dishwasher that we can afford to run!  The kitchen is small, but we have so much more counter space than I can use in the preparation of one meal!  We have a maid!  That's disconcerting, but lovely!  We have a pool, and a hottub, and a bank of grills, and a playground and free yoga classes and more stuff than I have had time to take advantage of (stupid rain)!

And I don't have a job, and my knitting is in transit, and I am bored out of my skull.  But let me tell you, this government-issued 1br apartment still seems to good to be true!

Homeless

Not really.  I mean...I have a place to stay.  Hell, I even still have an apartment, it's just empty and unbelievably sketchy.  But here's what's true:  Last Monday, movers came and emptied out our apartment.  We stayed in a hotel with the kitties until last Friday.  My husband, who shall remain nameless, took the kitties to DC and I went on a trip with a friend and spent the weekend sleeping on the ground in a tent.  Now I'm sleeping on the floor in a friend's house for the rest of the week.  I'll be in a B&B this coming weekend, and then - only then - will I make it to DC, where my husband, who shall remain nameless, and my kitties await me.  So for now, I do feel a bit like a vagrant.

I'm so tired.  It's disconcerting not having my own space for so long.  That apartment was no great shakes, but at least it was a consistent place.  It had my creatures in it.  Bouncing from floor to floor is exhausting.

But lemme tell you, crashing in a sleeping bag on my friend's floor is a damned sight better than crashing on the floor of my sketchy, empty apartment (that was my first plan, which my husband, who shall remain nameless, wisely vetoed).  Her place isn't sketchy!  And it's not empty.  I'm an introvert - I do pretty okay by myself.  But usually "by myself" at least involves kitties.  It's nice having another soul in the house, y'know?  And it's nice not to have cigarette smoke wafting through the bathroom vent and pot smoke creeping up from downstairs and neighbors screaming at each other, and wondering when the really sketchy people will figure out that you're 105lbs and all alone....

Thanks Becca!  :-)