Moving sucks. A lot. Thankfully, my coworker and her husband helped us move last weekend. Unfortunately, that still left a room's worth of stuff that had to be moved out, plus the entire place had to be cleaned. Subsequently, I feel like this weekend has been the first time off I've had in two weeks.

On the upside, the new apartment, while being more expensive, is much, much nicer than the old one. It's not any bigger, but it's laid out a lot more intelligently, so it seems bigger -- we can put in a dining room table, once we can afford to buy one. Also, the appliances are at least a decade newer than the old ones, if not more. And even though my cooking abilities are limited to boiling pasta, I can tell that the gas range is better to cook with than the electric one was. The only bad part is the incredibly weak shower head.

It's also much quieter here; not just with the lack of constant, thumping rap music, but with a private entrance rather than a hallway attached to the front door, we don't have to hear the comings and goings of everyone in the building (added bonus is we can actually park in front of our door, rather than in a parking lot). And it's off on a more secluded street, so there's less traffic. Even the Sound of Freedom (NAS Oceana jets) seems to be less noisy -- perhaps because they flew more or less directly over the old place.

Plus, the guy downstairs drives a Prius. That's cool in itself.