We spent night one in the new place last night. Not because we've moved enough stuff for that to be a reasonable proposal, but just because Nick was feeling boy-scout-campout adventurous and we're sick of staying at our old places and thinking about all the junk yet to be displaced.
I've mentioned before that basically it takes a black ops military unit to get me out of bed?
Well, the bedroom we picked for our sleeping quarters has one large window with dark-colored glass situated roughly 18 inches from the house next door. Oh, old-ass Victorian homes, packed together like Peeps. At night, and in the morning, and whenever you have the door shut, this room is a cave, an abyss, and fortress of total blackness. Like sleeping on a submarine.
So much for getting up early to run before work and grabbing coffee from the cute breakfast cafe down the street. Never. Going. To happen.