Standing in the middle of her newly purchased loft, surrounded by boxes and bags, Mataya laid her hands on her hips and sighed happily. For someone who had spent most of her working life living out of one suitcase or another, or staying in her childhood bedroom at her parents' house, it felt fantastic to finally have somewhere she could call home. And it was all hers. Perfect.
Well, it would be perfect, once she'd established some order around here. Thankfully the removal men she'd hired to help her out had been a good bunch, and the majority of the heavier furniture was laid out exactly as she had asked them. But everywhere she looked, there were boxes and bags, some open and half-unpacked, others still resolutely closed.
She looked down at the pile next to her, and sighed again, this time a little less happily. 'Bedroom' was written in bright purple marker pen on the sides of them, and the bedroom - well, the area she'd set aside to serve as her bedroom - was on the other side of the wide space. Still, it had to be done.
Not even attempting to lift the pile, she grabbed the tape and stuck the whole lot together before rising and setting her weight against it. After a sticky start, the heavy tower of boxes began to move across the smooth floor, and she grinned, setting her shoulder to it and using her bare feet against the wooden floor to push the whole lot over next to her bed.
Next came the bathroom lot. This only consisted of one large box and one bag, and she manuvered herself across to the bathroom easily enough, elbowing in through the door and leaving those there for the time being. The kitchen boxes were those that were half-unpacked already, since she'd spent the majority of the morning cleaning the kitchen area to prepare it for her belongings.
However, there was a slightly more pressing matter on her mind. She'd noticed the posters up announcing the opening night of 'Carmen' and, being a performer herself, among other things, she'd already decided she wanted to go. Of course, she doubted she was going to manage to get there on opening night - it would be sold out already, she was sure. But it would be nice to get to a performance, just to see the caliber of the performers who called RhyDin home.
Which meant ... bedroom. She groaned to herself, moving over to the little space. The wardrobes and drawers were already up, courtesy of one screwdriver and a lot of swearing, forming a screen wall between the sleeping area and the rest of the room, so she was left to tear open the boxes and begin putting her clothing away.
Around halfway through, Mataya was beginning to wonder why she had never thrown any of the after-party dresses away. There seemed to be no end to them, testament to the number of shows and plays she had been a part of over the years. And the shoes! She'd always laughed when her friends had told her she owned far too many shoes, but right now, she was thinking they were right. But it all had to be unpacked.
Next came her everyday clothes, the bright tops and jeans she favoured more than willingly when not rehearsing or performing. Likewise her rehearsal clothes, the loose jersies and cottons that allowed her skin to breathe as she flung herself around studios and stages, just one among many in a chorus line.
Books, old scripts and scores, little ornaments - they were all set aside to be put onto the bookcases she had yet to put together. The various posters of the shows she had been in were also set aside, along with drapes and rugs and that precious photograph of her parents' wedding day. Decoration could wait until she was settled in and no longer presented with the sight of too many boxes for one person to sensibly claim as their own.
By the time she was done with that small area, she was exhausted, aching from spending too much time bent over. The kitchen was raided for a cup of a coffee and some unidentified ready meal was put into the microwave to heat through.
Coffee in hand, Mataya moved to the balcony, easing through the sliding doors to grin at her own shiver in as yet still cool air outside. What a view, a lovely vista of the city she'd decided to make her base of operations here in this new, unexpected world. She leaned onto the railing and felt herself smile with contentment. It was a start, at least.
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http://collegecandy.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/unpacking-boxes.jpg
Well, it would be perfect, once she'd established some order around here. Thankfully the removal men she'd hired to help her out had been a good bunch, and the majority of the heavier furniture was laid out exactly as she had asked them. But everywhere she looked, there were boxes and bags, some open and half-unpacked, others still resolutely closed.
She looked down at the pile next to her, and sighed again, this time a little less happily. 'Bedroom' was written in bright purple marker pen on the sides of them, and the bedroom - well, the area she'd set aside to serve as her bedroom - was on the other side of the wide space. Still, it had to be done.
Not even attempting to lift the pile, she grabbed the tape and stuck the whole lot together before rising and setting her weight against it. After a sticky start, the heavy tower of boxes began to move across the smooth floor, and she grinned, setting her shoulder to it and using her bare feet against the wooden floor to push the whole lot over next to her bed.
Next came the bathroom lot. This only consisted of one large box and one bag, and she manuvered herself across to the bathroom easily enough, elbowing in through the door and leaving those there for the time being. The kitchen boxes were those that were half-unpacked already, since she'd spent the majority of the morning cleaning the kitchen area to prepare it for her belongings.
However, there was a slightly more pressing matter on her mind. She'd noticed the posters up announcing the opening night of 'Carmen' and, being a performer herself, among other things, she'd already decided she wanted to go. Of course, she doubted she was going to manage to get there on opening night - it would be sold out already, she was sure. But it would be nice to get to a performance, just to see the caliber of the performers who called RhyDin home.
Which meant ... bedroom. She groaned to herself, moving over to the little space. The wardrobes and drawers were already up, courtesy of one screwdriver and a lot of swearing, forming a screen wall between the sleeping area and the rest of the room, so she was left to tear open the boxes and begin putting her clothing away.
Around halfway through, Mataya was beginning to wonder why she had never thrown any of the after-party dresses away. There seemed to be no end to them, testament to the number of shows and plays she had been a part of over the years. And the shoes! She'd always laughed when her friends had told her she owned far too many shoes, but right now, she was thinking they were right. But it all had to be unpacked.
Next came her everyday clothes, the bright tops and jeans she favoured more than willingly when not rehearsing or performing. Likewise her rehearsal clothes, the loose jersies and cottons that allowed her skin to breathe as she flung herself around studios and stages, just one among many in a chorus line.
Books, old scripts and scores, little ornaments - they were all set aside to be put onto the bookcases she had yet to put together. The various posters of the shows she had been in were also set aside, along with drapes and rugs and that precious photograph of her parents' wedding day. Decoration could wait until she was settled in and no longer presented with the sight of too many boxes for one person to sensibly claim as their own.
By the time she was done with that small area, she was exhausted, aching from spending too much time bent over. The kitchen was raided for a cup of a coffee and some unidentified ready meal was put into the microwave to heat through.
Coffee in hand, Mataya moved to the balcony, easing through the sliding doors to grin at her own shiver in as yet still cool air outside. What a view, a lovely vista of the city she'd decided to make her base of operations here in this new, unexpected world. She leaned onto the railing and felt herself smile with contentment. It was a start, at least.
_______________________________________
http://collegecandy.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/unpacking-boxes.jpg