squirmy with excitement

I talked to Chris today as he was looking through our new apartment looking for things to report to the landlords. I asked him how it was and there was a pause.

"Jesus Christ, it's fucking awesome!"

As we have a loft, the ceilings in the living room go up about 25 feet, which means Chris will be practicing his golf swing. I didn't know Chris golfed. Well, he can take my dad out when he comes to visit.

The management was also cool enough to leave a basket of cookies and toilet paper in the kitchen. I imagine both will be all gone by the time I get there, but it's the thought that counts. I can't fucking wait to see this place. I only saw the model apartment on my trip in May, which was ridiculously nice but then again no one's ever lived in it. I asked about my shower, as it is a stall and not a tub, because I still have nightmares about our little telephone booth shower at the Henry house. It's not that small, thankfully. I'm reminded of a Douglas Adams' line from So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish:

a bathroom which, she explained, you could actually swing a cat in. 'But,' she added, 'only if it was a reasonably patient cat and didn't mind a few nasty cracks about the head.'

The waiting is killing me.