If anything good came out of a recession and/or moving it was that it often forced a person to prioritize. That didn't mean America was going to be happy about it though – he also didn't like to admit it, especially as he'd moved into efficiency apartment, but Sweden was definitely winning the space saver race when it came to furniture and storage supplies. And of course he didn't have the spare cash to Ikea the shit out of his new apartment.
Despite it all, he had to consider himself lucky, it wasn't like he was going to get fired from HIS job anytime soon. Seriously, how many other people could apply for the position of Personification of the United States of America? A single mortal body just could not contain that much awesome. He'd also lucked out in finding a place with a closet big enough for Tony to call a room.
Of course he couldn't shake the feeling that Tony was holding out on him when it came to alien space saving technology. He should have some kind of device that opens into an inter-dimensional plane allowing that closet to hold at least 3 bedrooms. As they were hauling boxes in, he'd periodically barge in on Tony in hopes that he'd see it and could demand use of the extra storage space.
In the mean time, he'd put off unpacking boxes in favor of doodling plans for his own version of an inter-dimensional space saver. The possibilities were endless- you could keep one in your pocket! It'd be like pocket space! You could keep pens, a hand gun, candy, crayons and – he bit his lip – retrieval would be a problem, it was too bad pocket space couldn't be organized the way your items were organized while playing Resident Evil. Maybe he'd just store one item at a time, like in Japan's anime where the chicks were always pulling frying pans out of nowhere- wait!
Japan had already beat him to it! Well, Japan was his friend – he'd ask him about it the next time he was over, yeah, Japan would help a guy out. He clearly already let England in on the secret, that guy was always pullin' tea bags outta nowhere. He suppressed a snort and stopped doodling long enough to whip out his phone.
~~To: UK
~~HEY! teabagged ne1 lately? XD LOL
He cackled feeling pleased with himself.
"OY!" the alien shouted from his closet, "Stop wasting time scribbling and harassing that fucking limey and keep unpacking!"
"FINE," he huffed back.
"This place looks like a college dorm room," Tony snarled from behind a stack of boxes.
"Dorm rooms do not have a fully stocked kitchen," okay so the oven pretty much opened right into his desk and the desk was shoved under a lofted bed, and his guest bed was now a futon. But otherwise it was a bitchin bachelor pad. He'd made sure to hit up the grocery store in an attempt to further put off unpacking. He stared at his cupboards, wondering if moderate hunger was an excuse to continue ignoring all those boxes.
He looked down as his phone buzzed.
~~To: US
~~Can't believe it took you this long to think that one up. France has been using it for years. Stop dawdling and finish unpacking.
He frowned, he wasn't even sure what to do with all of them or even where to start! At this point he could barely remember what he'd packed away. Couldn't have been anything too important then, right?
He'd gotten the clothing out and put away and managed to convince Tony that creating a cardboard space station was an amazing idea… until he made lunch and the end box caught on fire.
He'd gotten out the TV and filled up one corner with various gaming systems, games and DVDs, because a man had to have his priorities in order, when his neighbor knocked on the door wearing pink cupcake footie pajamas. She was asking for eggs to make cookies that she was more than willing to share. Of course he had to take a break from unpacking and went over in his own navy blue space-themed footie pajamas – to show neighborhood solidarity damn it!
And to get fresh baked cookies.
She and her friends were baking and cooking whatever was left of her food before she moved out the next day. So much for new neighbors, she'd taken a pay cut with her new job and had to move back in with her parents.
He'd left with a light buzz, a couple plates of cookies, left-overs, and advice to check in on the people across the hall. They needed some help navigating the country and culture, being fresh to the land of the free and home of the brave, his neighbor explained that they were very kind and big on group dinners. She'd already warned them about credit cards and interest rates, but remained concerned nonetheless.
After putting the food away he stared at what was left of his boxes and sighed. A heavy sigh, the kind where you sag as the air leaves your body, a full bodied sigh.
He went back to it.
He'd gotten through dishes, bedding, clothing, gaming, showering products, and even took time to stick his glow in the dark stars to the ceiling, which involved a lot of precarious balancing on furniture not meant for such activities. He had what he needed and then some. The cupboards were full, the dresser and closet were full. The place was packed.
He dropped a box onto his coffee table and cracked it open.
"Ah! My rockets!" he grinned holding the clunky white toy in front of his face, "Oh man, that one time! That thing happened!"
He flew the toy around, pursing his lips together to make propulsion noises before crowing, "That's one small step for man, and one giant leap for man kind!" he got up jumping over the back of the futon and swinging from his lofted bed before crash landing back on the futon.
Resisting the urge to pop in Star Wars: A New Hope, he stared at the rocket and little toy astronauts in their red and blue lined uniforms – way cooler than storm trooper uniforms. But then again storm troopers didn't really go on space walks, but still…
As much fun as they were… he shrugged putting the toys back in the box before writing "storage" on the side. He didn't need them, didn't have the space for them, and with everything going on he wouldn't have much time for them either.
He bit his lip holding the box against his chest, wondering about a good place to keep it. So the space program and NASA suffered budget cuts, so most of the astronauts were hitting the private sector because money was tight, positions were few and the chance of a space walk was slim. That was capitalism man! So what, he'd land on his feet, he'd work hard and he'd get his people in to space again, it'd just have to be later.
And Russia could suck it, spreading rumors about how he never actually made it to the moon – Next time he'd make it to MARS! He nodded and walked over to the closet opening the door without warning.
"I knew it!"