I wonder if anyone else hates moving as much as I do. I was leaving my friends in New York to move to a place where the winters are so damned cold that water froze into little ice-cubes in seconds. Where it would take me a year at least to get used to not seeing Central Park and Times Square at Christmas time. I'd never get used to this.

My father works in a company that sends him to all sorts of places. We've been overseas countless times. We've been to Rome, Denmark, Nice, London, even Indonesia one time(THAT trip was a disaster!). My mother is extraordinarily patient with Dad. She's happy in the good old U.S. of A, but my father loves to travel. When I explain to people that I move around a lot, they seem to think it's wonderful. "You get to see such beautiful places!" Nah! The last time we were in Rome, it rained so much that we stayed in the hotel while Dad went on business. And in Indonesia, I didn't see anything but a bunch of naked people running around and mosquitoes the size of canned hams. Whenever I need to laugh, I think of Brittani being chased by giant mosquitoes. Eeew, bad image!!! Brittani giving the mosquito a makeover!!! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!! It burns!!!

Anyway, back to the story...

(In the plane)

I sat near the window, staring out, music blasting on my headphones. What would happen in Colorado? Will I actually LIKE Denver, or will I be cheering to get out? I kept thinking of New York. I lived there when I wasn't on trips with Dad and Mom. They insisted on flying, which I agreed with. I was NOT gonna sit in a hot car in the MIDDLE OF SUMMER with those two for God knows how long. They fight like...well, like a married couple. Okay, sorry, that was corny.

The plane ride was long. Not as long as the one to England, but long enough to make me want to scream. I have the patience of a spoiled toddler. I hate heights and flying makes me nervous, so when we FINALLY landed(about 10:30 at night), I relished the walk. I'd been sitting for almost 6 hours, and my legs were so cramped that I nearly cried in pain.

Then came the drive to our new house. Denver is a big city, so it took a while to actually find a suburb in that jumble of buildings. My parents were arguing again:

"You're moving the wrong way, Tom, Cedar Street is THAT way!"

"Damn it, Annie, I know where we are going--"

"Don't lose the moving truck!"

My dad is also extremely patient, but I knew his colon was tying itself into a square knot while Mom continued to scare the bejesus out of him. Remember when I said they fought like a married couple? I was wrong. They fight like Tazmanian Devils at mating season. Another image I never wanna see.

"Annie, would you like to drive? You seem to know exactly where we are!"

"You are so anal, Tom! Everything has to be perfect for you, doesn't it?!"

"That's it! You wanna drive, I'll pull over right now!"

I couldn't take it anymore.

"WILL YOU PEOPLE SHUT THE FUCK UP? PEOPLE ARE STARING AT US!" I screamed, as they were about to start in again. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I feel like I'm in a nuthouse at feeding time!!!"

Both my parents stared at me. My dad smiled in admiration and turned around, but if looks could kill, I'd have been sent six feet under minus the coffin. Mom's look told me I was in serious trouble. You never, ever insult my mother and expect to get away with it.

Finally, we found the moving truck near the house. It was pretty big. Three story brick house with an automatic garage door. I stepped out of the car with Dad, while Mom went to talk to the movers. Dad looked at me, like he was asking for an opinion.

"Well, kiddo, what do ya think?" he asked, nudging my arm.

"It's bigger than the apartment in Brooklyn, so I like it," I said, truthfully. That place was so small that we could barely fit my dog in it; she had to stay outside. "Snickers will like it; she never has been an outside dog."

Snickers is my golden Labrador. She's a dog I found in the ASPCA shelter and begged my mom and dad for. I love dogs. Star is my mom's black cat, and he seems to hate me. The feeling is mutual. Mom and I cut a deal when she bought Star: keep the mangy cat away from my dog, and she won't eat it. Snickers stays in my room now.

Dad smiled. "We'll let her have her own spot in the house if you want."

"Thanks Dad."

The mover put the animal crates down. I immediately opened Snickers' crate and she bounded out and sat near me. I petted her and looked as Mom brought out Star, and grabbed Snickers' collar. She hates Star as much as I do, since I've never been a cat person, and neither has Dad.

Dad brought me on a tour of the house, since I hadn't seen it when Dad bought it. It was a beautiful house: Dad said it was a tudor-style that was built in the 1970's. The large living room had a cathedral-style ceiling, which echoes if you speak loud enough. The kitchen was off to the side, and there was an adjoining bedroom-and-bathroom in the farthest section in the house. Dad would have that as his den. When we went upstairs, I nearly fainted when I saw my room. There was an old canopy-style bedframe(which I still have, after Dad cleaned it up) in one corner, and the room itself was much bigger than my whole apartment in New York. Dad was talking.

"We'll have to buy brand-new furniture, since your old bureau fell apart, but that canopy is gonna look real nice when we clean it up. Oh, here's your mattress...No, put it on the bedframe there...yes, we're gonna keep it."

Dad helped the movers bring in my boxes(which I wrote KEEP OUT on so my mother wouldn't snoop around in them, she tends to do that). I was excited; I FINALLY HAD CLOSET SPACE!!!!! I didn't have to live out of my box like I did before!

The rest of the second floor was mostly bedrooms. One of them Mom wanted as a rec room, since there were only three of us. The third floor had a HUGE library. The only other room on that floor was a small bathroom and an attic. Dad helped me lug my book collection(three boxes) up to the library and said we'd catalogue them over the weekend. The shelves were mostly empty, but there were still old books on the high shelves, and a ladder that really didn't look safe.

All in all, that was the day we moved to Denver. The next few weeks were pretty easy, but school was just around the bend...