I would like to predict that our comedic productivity is going to shoot through the roof, say, Aprilish...because the Buckets are moving in together! (It worked for Lauren Lapkus and Candy Lawrence, after all.)
We found a beautiful place in the middle of the exact neighborhood we wanted to move into. It's two blocks from Sloan, and our landlords are these incredibly cute Chicago Irish Catholic grandparents, with their own kids living on the same street. Nellie is already looking forward to baking cookies for them and watering their plants when they're at their weekend home in the summer.
This place has three bedrooms, three large separate living areas, high ceilings, oak floors, huge multi-windowed sun room in the front, washer and dryer in the new pantry in the large eat-in kitchen, and a big sun porch/balcony off the kitchen.
It's within walking distance of the library, a grocery store, a major bus route, the CTA, my boyfriend's house, and the BEACH. It's February and I'm full-on winter crazy, so I'm going to repeat that last bit. I'm going to put it in red, actually, to emphasize the point to myself, because I really need to hear it: in Chicago's Springtime, the snow melts and the sun comes back out and green things grow and the air in the park by the lake smells like lilacs and puppy breath and possibility itself. Happy tomboys ride their bikes by the water, stopping every now and then to take a photo or lick a popsicle and enjoy a sigh of visceral happiness.
It's heaven, absolute heaven. And to think Teresa and I have been living in tiny isolating collegiate studio apartments near Loyola and Northwestern all this time, and paying MORE money. (I'll let Nellie address whatever grievances she may have with Rockford.) I have one window where I live right now. One.
I can't wait.