...a girl moved into an apartment.
Okay, at 27 she's not really a girl anymore (her mother would beg to differ) and it's more of a small, attached home than an apartment (who's counting?), but anyway, this female moved into a place.
It's her first place. She's had roommates since she moved out of her parents' house at 18. Maybe it's a little too pricey for her job - she does freelance work on the side - but she qualified and she took it.
It's old. Probably been through a lot.
The company she thought was stable just went through a round of layoffs, probably with more to come. She's single, trying to reinvent herself so she doesn't wreck every relationship she gets into.
She has a diary for the sad thoughts, the doubts, the fears, the failures and sorrow.
So she started a blog for the good stuff. The positive thoughts, the adventures with friends, the wonderful experience living on her own will be.
She named it Disposable Tweezers because My Life With Me was taken.
On October 1, she signs the papers. On October 9, she moves in, though she's not really mustered up the appropriate help yet. Who knows if the job will last?
For now, though, she is a single gal with her own flat living in magical OC...and she gets to decorate.
And if the job falls through, the apartment is month-to-month.
But let's not focus on that potential hiccup.
Let the froyo tale begin.
(And let's hope the place is nice, she was pressed for time when she snapped it up and had only looked it over for about ten minutes. It's been such a crappy September; let the good times finally roll.)
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