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The thrilling tale of my move to Washington, in which I use the word “awesome” roughly 800 times

22 Sep

Let’s talk for a second about how much I absolutely adore my little brother.

How could anyone not be in awe of this person?

Up until a couple of weeks before I left Denver for Spokane, I was convinced that I would be making the 20+ hour trek all by lonesome. But Kevin, wonderful, amazing, fabulous brother, informed me that he’d come with.

So, after an amazing going-away party Saturday, and an incredibly stressful, hungover Sunday in which I finished packing and cleaning my soon-to-be-old apartment (at which point I’m pretty sure I dislocated my shoulder scrubbing the bathroom floor), I retired to my parents’ house for some much-needed sleep. I didn’t get there until almost 3 am, and my dear sweet kick-ass brother had already made up the hide-a-bed in the guest room for me. How awesome is that?!

This pretty much set the tone for the rest of our incredibly long, sleep-addled cross-country adventure. We didn’t leave until the following afternoon, dog and trailer in tow. And never once, not when we had to stop fifteen minutes after leaving so my mom could meet up with us to give me my laptop (I’d left it on their coffee table), not when we got stuck in rush hour traffic leaving Denver, not when I kept trying to give him “helpful” hints about trailer-driving, not even when we nearly hit a huge dead elk doe driving through northern Wyoming at 4am, did Kevin show the least bit of impatience or resentment.

We made it into Montana in time to watch the sun come up, listened to lots of loud music, peed on the side of the highway, and drank lots and lots of coffee/Red Bull. We finally made it to Spokane around 4:30 Tuesday afternoon. 23 and a half hours, straight through. By the time we actually arrived at Kate and Shane’s, we were exhausted and slap-happy. And then the real fun started.

Around the time we were hitting Bozeman, Kate was getting a call from my landlord asking her to inform me that he’d redone the hardwood floors in my apartment, and that they weren’t dry yet, but that we were welcome to go over to check. We did. They weren’t. So I did what any rational, grown up-type person would do. Completely freak out about having nowhere to put all the crap that was currently languishing in a trailer due back to UHaul the next day.

Solution? My landlord hooked me up with a place that’s

bigger, cheaper, and in a better neighborhood. Pictures coming when I feel less lazy.

See? I toldja I’d post something longer.