This might sound a little bit like complaining, but I'm smiling on the inside.

I'm sitting at the bar counter in my 'new' apartment. I've so far tried to have a shower, blow up the air mattress and plug in the fridge. Well, the fridge works. I think. The shower sort of works. After it spit out 'Vancouver water' for a few minutes, it ran to a nice lukewarm, which was ok since I was sweating like a pig from moving my stuff in and commandeering the pets. That's probably spelled wrong.

The air mattress 'looks' like it's blown up but I bet I'll wake up with my ass and shoulders on the floor tomorrow morning. This is because I didn't read the booklet of instructions that came with it. For some reason, I just think air mattresses shouldn't need instructions.

Every time I sit down in this kitchen that was built for entertaining (and one would wonder why I took this apartment), I am reminded I have no ashtrays. None. Not a knife, spoon or saucer to be had in this place. In the fridge, there are two cans of pepsi, and a frozen pizza I ambitiously bought this evening even when it was clear I was going to be eating corn chips.

Beebs loves the windows, but maybe that's just an oversight on my part because she's been locked in the car for the past 9 hours. Buckley is licking the bottom of my shoes and Marble is lying underneath what passes for the bar stool I am sitting on.

As Michael said earlier this evening, Ikea will be my new best friend. Maybe when I have money. For now, I am going to concentrate on covering the enormous windows that stare black squares of night at me, while I type this out.

I'm not in a bad mood, I'm just tired. And wondering what the fuck is up with the shower. But really, I'm sitting here kind of lonely, wondering how everyone who is not with me, is doing. Glad to be here, at last.

And wondering what's next.