We mostly moved to another apartment complex across the street. The neighbors were getting bothersome in a way that didn't seem wholesome for raising a child. You know how it is, the tennants change over time so even if you have a nice bunch of folks when you get there, some of them move out and others move in. But this place is a little bigger and I can let my daughter go outside because it has huge picture windows where I can watch her and hubby is pleased that it gets satellite tv. I know he moved just for the tv.
Two biggest hardships: The kitchen was designed by a man and no DSL yet. Dial-up sucks! Really, the kitchen has all the storage up high and the pantry is long and narrow. Half of it is behind the fridge and my arms just aren't that long, plus there is only a 6" gap to step into. Clearly only useful for someone who's a cross between a member of the WNBA and Kate Moss. But I don't much like to cook so maybe this is a way out . . .
Sparky is the most freaked. Blackie moved across country with us twice, so he wasn't happy about being kennelled but tolerates it pretty well. Sparky just hunched himself up and crouched in the back of the kennel with his head upside down on the bottom of it. It was weird, his nose tucked under his chest and his ears against the floor. It took him two days to want to be petted again.
And he's mad at me! He has sprayed twice since we got here (or peed, since he has a hard time getting to the cat box), both times on stuff of mine: Once on a pair of underwear without getting hubby's jacket or the carpet, and once on my sheet that was on the floor without getting the blanket or the furniture. Unless he's trying to tell Fred that I'm his territory or something.
But he still comes up to me for snuggles and petting, so he can't be too mad . . .