STRANGER THAN FICTION: CAPE IS TURNING OUT NEAT PLACE TO LIVE

My stuff has arrived.

Before last Sunday, the apartment was merely a dumping ground for fast-food wrappers. I ate burgers while sitting around thinking where my furniture would go when there was time to move it.

But on Sunday, ex-Mr. Dreams, my former boyfriend, and his too-sweet-to-be-real brother moved a couch, chair, mattress, television and tons of other stuff 30 miles to the north and up three flights of stairs.

I should have been dating the brother all along. Following the furniture delivery, I offered him money, a gas tank fill-up, dinner, coffee, tea, me -- just kidding -- and he would have none of it. He was ~just "glad to help" and wanted to get back to his girlfriend in time for the Sunday night service at church.

How sickening.

Ex-Mr. Dreams, on the other hand, said, ~"Uh, you can buy ME dinner."

The ingrate. Wonder if he remembers how many meals were planned, purchased and cooked in his honor during the last two years.

But I'm not bitter.

Tough move

Seriously, those guys put in a tough three hours. Watching them maneuver the couch was my favorite, because it actually had to be carried upright on one end around the turns. I walked behind and supervised, listening to the discussion.

"This isn't working. We're not going to make the curve."

~"Back up a little more."

"I can't move any farther. There's a wall here."

"Move to the right."

"Okay."

"No, MY right. You got it? Now heave!"

"*&#@&*#!!!"

I always knew I was more of a management type. Not that there weren't a few cuts and bruises on my end. There are big greenish-purple marks down the insides of my arms thanks to a near-tragedy with the television. Not to whine, but I also think I dislocated my shoulder, because it really hurt when I was trying to get into some control-top pantyhose the next day.

After the move, it was time to open up an account at my favorite financial institution. During my visit there, I realized just how hard the move must have been on my looks. The representative mentioned I would receive a free $10,000 life insurance policy with my account, so I signed the papers and made Mom and Dad the beneficiaries.

The representative looked at me very seriously. ~"You should know this is just for ACCIDENTAL death. Okay?"

So, now I look suicidal. I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it. Maybe.

Home alone

Things haven't been all that bad, really. I try not to stay alone too much these days, because I've begun talking to Ramses, my cat, quite a bit, calling myself ~"Mommy." As in: ~"Mommy is going to the store now, Ramses, so you be a good boy."

He probably thinks, ~"What a Froot-Loop."

Since we moved, Ramses has become the HELLION KITTY. No house plant is safe anymore -- as if the move wasn't hard enough on them. Even my peace lily is ticked off. The other day I exited the bathroom to find a vine I'd nursed from a mere twig hanging limply from Ramses' mouth.

One more incident like that and cat stew for everyone.

No, I really do love my kitten. And I know moving is tough on everyone, even cats.

Cape Girardeau is turning out to be a neat place to live. But my grandparents are moving here soon, so there goes one good column topic -- just kidding, Grammy and Pop-Pop!

Even the roach situation is under control. They aren't so bold anymore, like coming out to play canasta and other roach games on my kitchen counters. Yep, a little Raid and some motels (they check in, but they don't check out) can do wonders.

Also, I just got a haircut and now I'm actually THREE TIMES as cute as in the picture. Really! Honest!

Heidi Nieland is the newest member of the Southeast Missourian news staff, having moved here from Sikeston.