Post by mickey on Nov 4, 2011 0:22:10 GMT 10
[/justify]Makayla didn’t typically think of herself as a control freak, but she supposed that there were certainly some times when she liked to be right in the front as opposed to other times when she was content to take a backseat. But, seeing as how it was all of her belongings wrapped up in her boxes, she was more worried about whether or not it was properly taken care of. It was the main reason that her station wagon (or, ‘Old Lady Car’, as she saw fit to refer to it as) was filled with boxes instead of letting the movers take them in the truck. The phrase ‘if you want it done right, just do it yourself’ came to mind as she found herself acting a bit like an air traffic controller for the moving men as the less important boxes were carried in and distributed around her new apartment. The more important, breakable stuff that was still in her car would be brought in later, once the muscle had left and she had time to actually arrange things.
Once the movers had gotten out of the way, instead of the breakable dishes and the boxes in her car, she decided it was time to bring in the pets. Letting them sit in the car all day, while it would’ve kept them out of her way, wasn’t practical. Besides, the longer the cat from hell was cooped up in it’s cage, the more pissy it’d be later.The whole process would have gone a lot faster if she remembered where she had packed her ipod and stereo, seeing as how music was motivational in any setting—especially when faced with a mountain of boxes and only herself to unpack them. Right. Organization and control where definitely her strong points, as was becoming more and more apparent by her complete lack of knowledge as to where everything was. You would think that someone else entirely had packed everything, the way that she began to skitter from one box to the next, pulling out a few things from each and moving to put them away where they belonged. Before too long, all of her dry food was in the right shelves and the fridge was semi-full—she’d have to go shopping soon—and about an hour later she had some clothes where they needed to be.
Stepping back to survey the progress she’d made, she almost felt like crying. Despite everything, it still looked like there was a lot of work ahead. Who knew that one person could need so much stuff? Rolling her eyes a bit, she noted the fact that probably half of it was still clothing. Maybe, as she was unpacking, she’d think about donating some of the unneeded stuff. Though, it was more likely that, as she was going through everything, she’d find a reason to keep it all. Not that she was intentionally trying to be selfish, but despite her best intentions she was still sentimental and most of her things hadn’t been bought by her. With a quick sigh, she shook her head and decided to ignore the current boxes for a moment and instead devote herself to bringing up more. She still had her car full and, though she was certain they were safe out there, she didn’t necessarily want to leave them in there forever.
Slipping on the only pair of shoes she currently had unpacked, a pair of flip flops, she headed for the stairs. While she normally wouldn’t have worn them for what they did to your posture, they were the easiest shoes to drive in because she could kick them off. But Makayla was not really interested in putting enough energy into unpacking the other boxes so she could find more beneficial shoes to wear. Before heading out, she bent down and gave Cadabra a quick pet on the head and kissed the German Shepherd’s nose. No doubt Abra was hidden under the bed now, and wouldn’t be coming out for awhile, so she was free of him, at least. “I’ll be right back, babe.”
Holding him back with her foot as she slipped out the door, Mickey half jogged down the three flights of stairs to get to her car and started humming lightly under her breath. It was absolutely beautiful outside, making her want to take an extra long time walking to her car and back before going back to the stuffy apartment all by herself. Dancing a bit to the music playing in her head, she pulled open her truck and pulled out the first two boxes. Things would definitely go faster if she didn’t take one box per trip; and doing this all night hardly seemed like a valuable use of time. Lifting up the boxes, both of them labeled ‘kitchen’, she headed back inside. Getting her key in the front door and pulling it open was a bit difficult with two boxes stacked in her arms, but with a bit of juggling and wiggling herself inside she managed to do it. Now she just had three flights of stairs…. Several times over, seeing as how this was her first trip, and then she’d be done for the day. After that? Ice cream. Definitely ice cream.
She continued humming as she started up the stairs, pausing every flight to shake her hips a bit and groove to the silent music. Once she made it to the last flight she became acutely aware of why she didn’t like flip flops at all. Nearly the whole way up and she hadn’t lifted her foot high enough, the bottom of her shoe catching on the stair and causing her to stumble forward and lose the boxes. Thankfully, the edge of the stairs broke her fall, right on her shins. That, and the boxes had a nice, comfy place to land back at the bottom of the stairs, their tumbling resulting in sounds of glass shattering. “Dammit!” The startled yelp was half from the pain of landing on the stairs—which, really, was minimal but more from the shock of it—and half from the fact that half of her dishes were now broken at the bottom of the stairs.
Sighing slowly, she turned over from where she rested on her knees to sit on the third to top stair and stare down helplessly at the box. Pulling off her shoes quickly, she cast an angry glare in their direction before throwing them down to where the boxes now where. “Stupid shoes with your damn… shoeness.” No one ever said fits of anger had to make sense. Though, her anger was quickly replaced by the disappointment that she now had broken dishes. Dropping her head to her hands, she let out an aggravated groan and decided that it was likely best to just sit there. Maybe even forever.
outfit-- moving in
