It's been about a week now since we moved into our new digs, and we're still settling in. It's kind of hard to really settle in when your furniture inventory consists of a couch, a tv and a cardboard box for a coffee table, but we'll manage.

We also still don't have a washer, dryer, or refrigerator, but we are still in the process of ordering all that kind of stuff. Of course, we opted to get a refrigerator with Beer Door (which I've learned is called a "Beverage Station"), but apparently Samsung decided to fuck us and stop making the one refrigerator on the planet that made me happy. I really want that fucking beer door, and it seems now that it's soley sentimental value fueling our search for someone who still has one in stock (Scott, check the appliance section where you work).

We're also going to need to do a style overhaul around here. All the fixtures and hardware are all this country-bumkin brass shit and there's this Shoney's-esque woodgrain throughout the house (sans salad bar). Seeing as I have about as much experience with home design as Hitler has with sensitivity training, the bulk of this effort will need to come from the person in this house with a vagina.

Outside of these little things, everything's been going pretty smoothly considering. We haven't been able to try out the pool since we've moved in due to the frigid artic temperatures have settled down here for an undisclosed length of time. Will update as soon as that happens.

Our masta bathroom has one of those tubs set in a cubby under a window. I'm told that this configuration is called a "Garden Tub," but I'll just stick with the cubby/window description as I can speak it without physically feeling a drop in my testosterone levels.

So, I suppose without further ado, I'll let you see a few photos. Keep in mind Brenda asked me to be conservative with the depth and breadth of pictures I distribute as we haven't settled or cleaned anything yet:

So, after having my stay at the Holiday Inn cut short a few weeks before we closed on the new house, we were forced to find alternative digs. Initially we were going to stay with my brother in Baton Rouge, but after looking at the logistics of getting to and from work (work being over an hour away), we settled on my aunt's camp in Springfield, a scant fifteen minutes away from the office.

The trade-off in the situation is the quality of accommodations; the Ritz it's not. If you're not well versed in what a "camp" is (no, not that kind of camp), it's basically little more than a shack on some rural land (or sometimes raised on pilings over a body of water) that people stay in on the weekend to go fishing or hunting or snipe catching.

I have many fond memories of coming to the camp on weekends as a kid, memories that have been all but obliterated by the last two weeks trying to live day to day in a place that is uncomfortable if you're only there for a weekend. To add insult to injury, we had no hot water for the first three days we were there. On the third day, when I was right on the cusp of being called "Pig Pen" at work, we broke down and heated up water on the stove and showered each other with a perforated garbage bag.

During Brenda's lunch break on the forth day she swung by the camp to pick something up to find my cousin fiddling inside the fuse box using a light bulb duct taped to a frayed wire to test the different circuits in an attempt to resolve the hot water issue (he's from the other side of the family). Amazingly he fixed it and we felt as if we were living in the lap of luxury after that.

Of course that didn't stop me from getting a nasty case of athlete's foot from the rusty ass shower stall.