I didn’t sleep at all last night. I don’t know if it was merely the strangeness of sleeping in an unfamiliar house for the first time, or if I was hot, or if I was simply troubled regarding which book I’m going to begin now that I’ve finished The Summer of my German Soldier. (Yes, my name is Holly Gruntner, I’m twenty-one years old, and I read young adult fiction. I am not ashamed.)
Having woken up at 3 am, 6:29 am, 6:40 am, etc., by the time 10 am rolled around, I was tired enough to finally fall asleep for good. That is, to fall asleep until 1 pm, when I finally made my appearance in the living room, to the bewilderment and general amusement of my new housemates.
I took a shower, and then had to face facts: It’s 90 degrees outside, I am carless, and I desperately needed groceries. When you’re eating leftover Jimmy John’s barbeque chips for brunch, you know it’s time to do some shopping.
So I made a list, drank a gallon of cold water, and ventured outside. It actually wasn’t too bad; it’s hot, yes, but it’s also windy, and the sidewalks are shaded by drooping trees.
I’ve just returned now, and am sitting on my bed, basking in the glorified neatness that is my new room. It’s a little bare, but having some of my dear friends arranged on a small bookshelf makes all the difference.
I think a bike ride is in order later, once it’s cooled down.
Here are a few pictures from yesterday, when Mom helped me make The Great Move from home to Morris:
I like Instagram. A lot.
I’ve had this hula girl since before I could drive. I bought her when I was fourteen, and we were down in Florida visiting my grandparents. She’s graced both of my vehicles since then, and seems to have developed quite a cheeky personality; every so often, she’ll drop her skirt, and then continue to sway as if nothing has happened.