Bowl of Self-Esteem

I got married on Saturday, August 15th. And it was an absolute blast. It was everything I hoped it would be. Namely, my sisters sang with pretend microphones all night and when it was over I didn't drive Tom home. Mission accomplished.

So, married Saturday, dying of some horrible infection on Tuesday. What was it? "In sickness and in health"? 90% of our marriage thus far has been the sickness part. I blame the air conditioner. Before I moved to Massachusetts 2 years ago, my future landlady (and unbeknownst to me, archnemesis) called and said that her current tenant had an air conditioner that she wouldn't need in her next apartment. I could purchase it from her at a discount. At the time I was living in Alabama in July and an air conditioner sounded like the best idea ever.

So, I bought it. Moved here and realized that my apartment stayed 20 degrees cooler than the rest of the world. Which was great in the summer. Pretty miserable in the winter. But that's beside the point. We took the unit out of the window when cold air started coming in, and it sat in the closet ever after. 2 years. Bottom of the closet. Never cleaned.

When we got back to our new house (yay new house no landlady woo!) after the wedding, it was 1000 degrees. Really. I used a candy thermometer. So, we put the A/C in the window and cranked that bad boy up. I woke up sounding like a 40 pack year smoker. Hmmm. Maybe I wasn't used to air conditioning. It'll be okay. Used it again the next night, woke up even froggier. And a little sniffly.

Me: "Do window units have air filters or anything on them?"
Tom: "Yeah."
Me: "Did we clean it before we used it?"
Tom: "I don't think so."
Me: "We should probably do that."

Pull out the filter. It is DISGUSTING. It is black with filth. Covered with mold and other particles that I have been breathing for two nights. Awesome. So, we clean it, pop it back in and hope for the best. The next morning I can't breathe. But as the day progresses I feel better and I assume I've caught a cold on top of the horrible allergic reaction that started the week. I do a 24 hour shift, and things go downhill from there. On Thursday I ended up having to get someone to relieve me at work because I was too sick to be on the hospital unit. The nurses were all eyeing me. Hello our patients are already sick, they don't need whatever you have too.

Went home and decided to try to have a bowl of soup to soothe my throat. I went to the cabinet to pull out a bowl, and there was my trusty "Bowl of Self-Esteem." It was a graduation gift from my master's thesis advisor, and it's my favorite bowl because it will hold an entire package of ramen noodles in broth without coming anywhere near spilling. It's a huge bowl. I only use it when I'm sick, but it never fails. When it gets to the point that I'm resorting to ramen, there's the bowl ready to go. I realized for the first time why this is. Because it is the largest, the bowl of self-esteem is always at the bottom of the stack. It's always ready to go when I am at my sickest because at that point, EVERY OTHER DISH AND BOWL THAT I OWN IS DIRTY. When I am sick, my house becomes a sty.

It took me 4 years to figure this out. Before I just assumed it was magical and sensed when it was needed. Because apparently when I am sick I super-anthropomorphize my dishes. Awesome.

So, I finally went to the doctor on Friday where I was dosed with antibiotics and narcotic cough syrup. I slept 12 hours that night and woke up a much happier camper. Completely better now, and the bowl is back at the bottom of the stack where it belongs. Hopefully I can stay well long enough to make it to my honeymoon on Saturday. :)

The Kid Is Not My Son

I promise that some day my blog will become something more than a repository of hatred for my landlady.

But not today.

So yesterday I was working at a hospital until about 5 PM. I got home, changed clothes, and received a phone call from my landlady. It's 5:15.

Her: "Hey, there might be someone coming to see the apartment."
Me: "Okay, when?"
Her: "Possibly at 5:45."
Me: "You couldn't give me any more notice than this?!"
Her: "Well, they called this morning and I told them to call back to confirm and they haven't called back. So I'm not even sure whether they're coming...I'd say it's about 50/50."
Me: "Okay, well I have to clean up."
Her: "Well, don't do too much, I don't think they're even coming."

So I get up and dump out the bucket of mop water that's been sitting in the kitchen since the day before. Try to wash the dishes really quickly. Take the giant pile of laundry that I was going to do prior to being called into work and stuff it into a hamper. Try to start cleaning the tub a little when the doorbell rings. Awesome. It's the landlady, and her totally annoying 3 year old. It's 5:20.

Her: "They're definitely coming."
Me: "When?"
Her: "They said they'd be here by 5:30."
Me: "Awesome."

So she's standing in my living room and I can hear her scolding her kid to quit touching things. Meanwhile I am STORMING around upstairs, throwing things in closets, making up the bed, slamming doors, muttering. I go downstairs and she's just staring out holding the kid who is making a fuss. He wants to rip all the DVDs off my shelves. She's grabbing him and telling him to stop but he's still having a tantrum. Also he's wearing nothing but a shirt and a diaper, his face is filthy, and he has some dirty little bootie things on.

Her: "Nobody's going to rent this place if he starts screaming."
Me: "Yeah. Want me to turn on a movie for him?"

Keep in mind that I have a vested interest in this apartment being rented. If she doesn't find a renter by the end of July, I'm paying for August even though we'll be living in the new house by then. I have no desire to pay for this friggin' apartment when I'm not even living here. I can barely bring myself to pay when I am.

Her: "Yeah, if you don't mind, that'd be great."

Of course he wants to watch Monsters Inc, which is not in its case. I try to talk him into any one of the 50 other children's movies I have (Muppet Movie? Madagascar? Alice in Wonderland? Babe? How old am I again?) and he is not having it. The landlady finally says to throw on Little Mermaid and he'll watch it. So I do. As I'm turning on the DVD, the potential renters park on the street. Meanwhile her child is still fussing and yelling that he'd rather watch "Monster movie!"

Her: "Here they are."
Kids still fussing.
Her: "He's not my kid..." (I think she's joking)
And greets the potential renters.

My plan at this point is to turn on the movie, hop in my car, and come back in a half an hour as I've done with every other showing.

The people walk in, the landlady introduces herself to them, and then steps over her kid and I and says "I guess they're going to watch a movie." Then takes the renters upstairs.

I am stuck downstairs and she has just passed her child off as mine. How did that just happen?!??

She's upstairs with them, kid is watching the movie with occasional bouts of "I hate this." I'm wondering if there's any way I can leave this kid sitting here alone without him tearing apart everything I own. 5 minutes in, he hops out of his chair and takes off out the front door. I run after him, grab him, and tell him to plant his butt back in the chair. He behaved the rest of the time. But clearly, if I'd ditched him he would've run into traffic.

The renters have no interest in the apartment and leave. The landlady turns to me and says, smiling:

"They thought he was yours. He looks more like you anyway." And leaves.

I am living in some kind of surreal nightmare world where my landlady is on crazy pills and has no idea how incredibly inappropriate she is. Her poor kid.

I Can't Live Here Anymore

As you all well know, my landlady is the worst human being ever to have walked this earth. I'm pretty sure she lives to inconvenience me. Tom and I are in the process of purchasing a house, and every ten minutes I look up and say, "I want to go live in my houuuuse." He has interpreted this as a quality that he never knew about- "You are incredibly impatient." But I don't think that's correct. It's just that every ten minutes it dawns on me that I still live in the same house as this horrible woman- and it dawns on me because I live in constant fear of the next thing she's going to do to completely piss me off.

So, last week she puts a note in my mailbox that she received from the city. The city will be flushing the water mains on every street, so you should check the city website every evening and if they're going to be flushing your street the next day you should go ahead and put some water in pots and pans, or shower the night before. The flushing would only be taking place between 8 AM and 4 PM however, so when you get home you should be all set...just run the water til it's not cloudy anymore. She reiterated the message on the note when I saw her outside later that day- "I don't want a bunch of sediment in my pipes, so make sure you check and don't turn on the water the day that they're flushing." Okay, 'nuff said.

Yesterday was the first day that flushing would be taking place. But, I had a class to attend in Northern China and was therefore gone for most of the day. I didn't get home til about 6 PM. When I got home, the water seemed a little cloudy so I checked the website. My street was completed- the flush had been done that morning. Sweet. I go to pick Tom up from work, stop by the grocery store so I can make dinner, and come home with a plan to run the water until it turns clear and move on with my life. I walk into the kitchen, turn on the faucet, and it's a trickle. Apparently the only reason the toilet flushed and I was able to wash my hands when I got home was that there was that much water left in the system.

So, I call my landlady.
Me: "Hi, is your water working? Mine is off."
Her: "Oh, well they're flushing the water mains, remember?"
Me: "Yes, from 8 AM to 4 PM. It's 7 and my water is off."
Her: "I don't know, I'm not home. That's strange..."
Me: "Well, will you call me when you get home and let me know what's going on?"
Her: "Yeah, I'll be home in about an hour. OH! Oh...it's in the basement...it's....um.....you'll have water later."
Click.

I look at Tom and say, "I'm pretty sure that she turned off the water." So, I can't make dinner, I can't flush the toilet, I can't have a glass of water. Luckily what I really needed at that point was a beer, and I did have that readily accessible. A couple of Tom's brothers came over and hung out (played cards and listened to me call my landlady a whorebag) for a while. So, 2 hours after the initial phone call, I've had some beer and would like to use my bathroom again. I'd also really like to eat some friggin' dinner since it's 9 PM. I call her back:

Me: "Hi, it's me again."
Her: "Hey, what's up?"
Me: "Is there something I can do to get the water back on?"
Her: "You mean it's not back on yet?"
Me: "Should it be? I'll check....nope. Still not on."
Her: "Okay, well I'm having like the worst night ever at work, I was supposed to be home 3 hours ago. Can you just let me deal with this? I'll be home later."
Me: "Well, I'd really like to be able to use my toilet, and it's 9 PM and I haven't been able to make dinner yet. Is there something I can just do to turn the water back on?"
Her: "No. I don't want you touching anything. I'll figure out what's going on when I get home. Could you just order out? I'm just having a terrible night."
Me: "Fine bye."

SHE IS SUCH A TERRIBLE PERSON! Okay, so a few points.
1. "It's not back on yet?" Don't act like the water was going to turn itself back on. You know damn well you turned off the water without notifying me, and then didn't remember to turn it back on before you left the house for the next 6 hours. Don't lie to me. I'm not an idiot. And I hate you.
2. "I'm having the worst night ever at work." I work with dead people. You manage real estate. And half the time you don't have the courtesy to leave my parking space open when I get home after a 24 hour shift. Go screw yourself.
3. "Could you just order out?" Are you gonna pay for it? I just signed up for a mortgage. I cannot afford to order out. Again, screw.

So, she gets home around 10 PM, immediately the water magically reappears. Do you think she calls to let me know the water is back on? Nope. I hate her so much it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall.

This morning she calls. Is it to apologize for turning off the water? Hellz no.
Her: "Hey Sam, I just wanted to remind you that they're flushing the water mains."
Me: "They did it yesterday."
Her: "No, I just called the city and they said that they were on Florence Street today. If you remember, the sheet said that it didn't even start until today."
Me: "No, the sheet said it started yesterday. I checked the website last night and it said our street was completed. And if they didn't do it yesterday then why the hell was my water off last night?"
Her: "The water was off because I turned it off. Last time they did this I got all kinds of sediment it my house and I didn't want that happening again so I turned off the water."
Me: "Well, it's nice of you to let me know you were going to do that."
Her: "I'm going to call them back because I was here all day yesterday and I don't think they flushed the pipes. I'll call you back."

I swear to God if she's going to turn the water off again today I'm going to call and get myself kicked out of this apartment.

Her: "You're right. They did it yesterday. They must've done it after I left."
Me: "Fine. Bye."

I'm not impatient. I just have to get away from her. I want to go live in my new houuuuuuse.

Lester

I got home from the dress fitting and was trying to unload stuff from the car when I realized that my landlady was standing right next to me.

Me: "What's up?"
Her: "We have a bit of a situation here."
Me: "What's wrong?"
Her: "There's a baby possum trapped in one of the recycling bins."
Me: "Let it out."
Her: "But it's daytime and they're nocturnal!"
Me: "It can take a nap when it gets home."
Her: "Do you know what they eat?"
Me: "You want to feed it?? They eat anything. They eat garbage! I'm sure if you let it get close enough it will try to eat your face." (please please test that theory)
Her: "Well, I put some grass in there with it."
Me: "I don't think it's going to eat grass. It'll eat dog food, but really you should just throw it somewhere."
Her: "But it's a baby!"
Me: "It's a rat."
Her: "Do you think if I tip the bin over tonight its mother will come get it?"
Me: "Sure." (actual answer: no)
Her: "If I pick it up do you think it'll bite?"
Me: "Absolutely."
Her: "Even though it's a baby?"
Me: "If it was a baby, it'd still be living in its mother's pouch. That thing is on its own and I guarantee it has teeth. Either let it out or call Animal Control."
Her: "I'm sorry, I'm a city girl. You're the one from the country, that's why I'm asking you!"
Me: "In the country, someone would shoot it."
Her (looking horrified): "I'll go get some dog food."
Me: "See you later."

This is the first thing I think of when I think of possums. Thank you Disney for taking over my mind. Also, the little yodeling girl is hilaarious in this video. We used to tease my sister for looking like her.

Things That Have Happened to Me Lately

First, I was completely tricked by Tom's entire family. A few weeks before Mother's Day, Tom's sister calls and says she's planning a Mother's Day brunch. She's making all the arrangements, she just wants to see if I'd be off work. I told her I was off that weekend, and would plan to at least make an appearance. My sister was going to be in town and I didn't want to make her go to Tom's family function since she doesn't really know them very well. However, the time comes and she seems fine with going. I have a gift for Tom's mother, wrap it, and we show up at the restaurant. There are gifts and a couple tables full of people. I walk up and Tom's sister says, "This is for you. SURPRISE!"

I totally don't believe them. Also, I'm holding my new nephew Jimmy who I looooove.

It was actually a surprise bridal shower that I had NO idea was coming. I actually didn't even believe them until I saw a couple of my friends there. It was totally awesome, and I cannot BELIEVE they fooled me so completely. My sister is evil, and Tom's family is surprisingly sneaky.

I just realized they weren't kidding. And poor Jimmy's losing his hat.

Later that night, we had my bachelorette party (which I did know about) and this happened.

Enough said.

So, partying done, Tom and I began seriously house hunting. I hate my landlady with the fire of a thousand hells, and want to get out of here. We figured, might as well buy a house instead of having to stuff all our belongings into yet another apartment. Can I just tell you? Open houses SUUUUUUCK. We must've gone to 30 of the stupid things. And apparently the people most affected by this recession are those who 1. own cats, 2. never clean up after said cats, 3. smoke lots of cigarettes while watching the cats pee on every inch of their home. I would leave every house sneezing and retching. It was awful.

So, Tom and I found a house. We walk in, it doesn't smell like cat pee, sold! We actually sign the purchase & sale agreement on the house today, and close July 29th. So, those of you who are coming to our wedding can see the house while you're here. Because I will be living there. And it will be awesome. I have a bunch of photos, but I feel bad posting them here since most of them are full of the current owners' stuff. So, I'll just post a photo of the front.

My crib.

Besides home-buying and wedding planning, it's also been crazy at work. Which of course, means that I have another lovely tale of truckdom for you. As you know, every wheel on my car has fallen off and been reattached at some point. So the other day I was driving home (after using an entire tank of gas in one day...I drove to almost every state in New England) and all of a sudden I hear a clatter. I think that maybe I've run over a bottle? I look in the rear view mirror and see....my spare tire. It has fallen off of the bottom of my truck (apparently the cable that holds it there had rusted through) and is rolling around in 4 lanes of traffic. People are swerving left and right. I am soon going to be responsible for someone's death. Of course by the time I notice it, I'm 5 cars ahead of the tire and can't turn around because I'm on a one-way street. I take a left on the next street so that I can loop around, but it's taking awhile. Of course, this happened to me right at 5 PM. I call the police and tell them the situation.

Operator: "Ma'am, I need to know exactly what street you're on so I can dispatch an officer."
Me: "Umm...I have no idea. It's near the Mass pike, I don't know what street. Hang on. When I circle back I'll read you the street sign."
Operator: "Okay."
Me: "Ok! It's Center Street. Hang on...the cars are stopped at a light, I think I can get the tire."
Operator: "Okay, just let me know."

So I jump out of the car, still on my cell phone, did I mention it's pouring rain? Cause it is. And of course the tire is in the middle lane of traffic, I go to lift it and HOLY CRAP SPARE TIRES ARE HEAVY. Probably doesn't help when they're wet and caked with mud. I can't really pick it up, so I roll it toward the bed of my truck. But then I really do need to lift it because cars are coming, i'm still on the phone, it's still raining, and I'm going to die soon. I heave it up over the side of the truck, toss it in the bed, and get back in the car. I tell the operator that I got the tire and the cops get to stay out of the rain.

And that is how I got a tire track across my arm. It has been a loooong month.

Jinxed

I think that last post jinxed me. My landlady's boyfriend(?) no idea who he actually is, but he's been picking up her mail...just rang the doorbell. He just stopped by to tell me that I need to get my car out of the driveway because my landlady is coming back early. As in tomorrow morning.

Luckily for me it just happens to coincide with the only rain we've had in two weeks. Meaning I get to go park my car in the mud pit.

I hate her.

Unsupervised

My landlady is having the house painted. She's been having the house painted for a month now, and they just finished yesterday. Thank God. For the past month, I've been awakening to the sound of sanding, ladders clattering on the house, and guys speaking some language I've never heard in my life. It's exhausting, and it's annoying. Primarily because I have a penchant for not walking around my house-where I live alone-in a whole lot of clothing. However, there's a window upstairs that's kind of oddly placed, so there's no blinds and no reason to have blinds. Except now there are painters standing at that upstairs window every morning. Everytime I walk from my bedroom to the bathroom now I have to wear pants. Pants! It's a travesty.

Over the course of this month, my landlady calls me all the time and asks me to do things.
8 AM- "Can you open both your doors?"
8 AM- "Are you going anywhere today?"
8 AM- "Can you move your car out onto the street?"

Why she always has to ask me crap while I'm still asleep is beyond me, but such is my life. So, yesterday I left for work early in the morning. The painters were outside my door painting the threshold. I stepped over them, hopped in the car and headed to the office. Later that night, my meetings were over and I was at a bar with some coworkers. My landlady calls.

"Hey Sam, when are you coming home?"
"I don't know, an hour or two? Why?"
"Well, it's just that the painters had to paint the thresholds, so both of your doors are open."
"You opened my doors?"
"Yeah, cause they had to paint."
"So do you need me to come home and guard my stuff? What do you need?"
"Oh no, I would never ask you to do that. I'm here and I'm checking on everything, so no worries."
"Okay bye."

So, I stay at the bar another hour, get home about 3 hours after she called. I arrive home, the house is dark, her car is not in the driveway, and both of my doors are wide open. In my living room sit Tom's computer and various gaming systems. However, nothing's missing, so Tom and I turn on the lights and the Red Sox game and go on about our business. About an hour later we hear the landlady pull up. She's probably left my stuff unguarded for a good 3 hours...I'm sure she was calling to see if I was coming home so she could leave. But, I hate her, I've already renewed my lease, nothing's missing, I'm just gonna leave it alone.

I've been home for about an hour when I walk upstairs to use the restroom. I walk in, and the toilet seat is up. I freak out. You see, in 14 months of living near Tom and even for the year he would come visit me in Alabama, Tom has never once left the toilet seat up. Not once. It's kind of amazing actually. Plus, he hadn't been up to the bathroom since we'd been home and I know I hadn't left it up that morning. Someone had been in my house. Not just in my house, pretty much in every single room of my house because to use the restrooom you have to go all the way upstairs.

So, I run downstairs and call my landlady.
"Hey, did you let your guys use my bathroom?"
"What? No. I'll call them and find out if they used it."
"Fine. I know they used it though- someone did."
"Okay, I'll call them."

So, she calls them and of course one of the painters admits to having used it.
"What? I had to use the toilet!"

She calls me and insists that she was there supervising them all day...oh, except when she went to get her kid. "He must've intentionally waited for me to leave to go in." Yeah, well maybe you should've gotten someone else to pick up the kid, or someone else to watch the house, or NOT open my frikkin' doors without my permission. Cripes.

So, the painter incident, combined with the fact that I wasn't allowed to close my doors til midnite even though it was 50 degrees out (had to let the paint dry) kind of made last night craptastic. If I get robbed this weekend, I think we all know who did it.

The only good thing? On my way out of the bar last night, I found a $50 bill in the street.

The Itsy Bitsy Spiders

*Disclaimer: Daniel, and anyone else with severe arachnophobia probably shouldn't read this.*

My apartment is overrun. I have no idea how this happened, I have no idea why this happened, I just know that it has to stop. For the past 2 days, I've been noticing a lot of spiders. And when I say "a lot" I mean, every single time I sit down on the couch I see at least one. I've lived in my apartment for almost a year now, and never have I had any insect problems. I don't think I've ever had a roach, last year there were no ants, minimal spider activity- I think Tom's had to get rid of 3 in a year tops.

This year, the insects are making up for it. For the past 2 weeks, there have been ants all over the place. I chalked it up to the rain- it rained almost every day for 2 weeks. Ants can't swim, I get it. Now that it's cleared up outside, and I vacuumed up all the rice-cake crumbs, I haven't seen any more. Did the ants lure the spiders? Don't spiders eat flies? I don't remember ants being featured anywhere in that song....of course, I haven't swallowed any flies lately either, so maybe that's not so applicable.

So, regardless of reasoning, the spiders are here. They're probably a millimeter in size...obviously little baby spiders. But here's the problem- there are like a million of them. Is there a GIANT spider in my house that is just laying offspring left and right? I haven't had any spiders until now- is it spider breeding season? Is there a giant male spider in addition to the obviously present female? How long have these things been gestating? Is there some busted-up egg sac in my apartment somewhere, because that would be totally disgusting. Did the Mom die when all the spiders hatched? (Isn't that what happened to that Charlotte spider?) Whatever. I'm trying not to worry about it because I don't know where they're coming from and I assume at some point they'll die from lack of other bugs to eat, or move out of the house into the wild of the suburbs.

Of course, it doesn't help that I get emails like this:

From: Tom@ilovemybuddy.org
To: Sam@spidervilleusa.com
re: omg the spiders

I'm not really worried. What I would do, is try and track down the source of the tiny spiders, and see if you can locate a small nest or something they're sprouting from. Then vacuum it up, and that should solve the problem.

NEST?!? These things nest?!? Also, I am not emptying a vacuum canister full of live spiders. Absolutely not going to happen. So, I'm sitting on the couch, holding a can of bug spray, jumping a mile everytime a strand of hair brushes my shoulder. And my foot itches. I assume it's a spider bite.

So, if I disappear for another month, it's probably a safe bet that I'm cocooned somewhere in the house. Send help.

In the Basement

My landlady is renovating the basement. She's lowering the floor, painting, adding shelves, the whole nine yards. Unfortunately, the floor-lowering part has been going on for longer than the entire project was supposed to take. For 2 weeks I've been dealing with the fallout from this project.

First to go was the laundry. They had to pour new concrete under the washer/dryer. Thus, I'm unable to do laundry. Of course, I find this out after accruing an entire week of dirty clothing. On the way into the house my landlady spots me and says "Oh, btw, no laundry for about a week or two." Great. Thanks for the heads up. Jerkface.

The next day she calls and offers to let me use her machines, which was very nice of her...but it leads me to think- how can she use her machines (situated directly beside mine) when I can't get to mine? I knock on her door with laundry basket in-hand, and soon have my answer. She has another set. Let me say this again. She has another set. She has two washer/dryer sets and she's complaining to ME about the water bill. Dude- why in the hell would you have two sets?!? And having two sets, why would you make me use a set from 1982 when BOTH of your sets are from 2000 or later? (Actually, I know the answer to that one- I am a lowly tenant.)

So, I put my first load into the washer and she assures me she'll call me when they're done and I can put my next load in/move everything over. A couple hours later, I finally grow weary of waiting for the call, so I give her a ring. "Oh, I went ahead and moved everything over...it should be ready in about 30 mins- I'll give you a call." Umm...you moved everything over? Meaning, you handled my dirty laundry? Gross. Omg my landlady handled my underwear. I'm just a little traumatized.

It's now what feels like day 26 of this nightmare. I've awakened to the sound of jackhammering more times than I'd like to think about, and as I type I'm trying very hard to breathe through my nose so I can filter all of the particulate matter floating about in the apartment. Seriously- tomorrow I'm going to weigh about 10 pounds more because of all the concrete dust that's accumulated in my lungs.

So, to sum up: it's dusty, I'm wearing dusty clothes because I have no laundry access, and somebody's using a sledgehammer on what I can only assume to be the entire foundation of the house. Because it's shaking. Oh, and construction workers are in my parking space. So, situation normal there.

Freedom!

I am officially off orientation. Thank GOD. This means that rather than anxiously awaiting a phone call every single day, I can now look forward to only receiving those calls 9 days a month. Which means that I now have a significant amount of free time. So, today I left the house for something other than work or groceries. (Actually, it was just errands, but it was still better than sitting in my apartment.) So, some observations from the day:

1. It is ridiculous that you can inhale secondhand smoke while driving 70 mph. It's so disgusting to think that all of a sudden you're inhaling chemicals someone else has already EXHALED. Eeew. Cars of smokers should have some sort of negative pressure system.

2. It's really flippin' cold here. I mean, I knew it was cold outside, but I leave my house so infrequently that it hasn't been a huge deal. It's 33 degrees out now (warmer than it has been) and the weather guy is saying temperatures will be dropping at the end of the week. WHY?? The stores in the mall are putting out swimsuits. It's making me sad.

3. I went shopping. By myself. I wanted to eat lunch at a restaurant so I wouldn't be at home eating leftover lasagne by myself for the 3rd day in a row. (And lunch by myself for the...how many days have I been living here?...time in a row.) But I don't know anyone who isn't at work all day or in Alabama, so I decided to stop for takeout. I was craving sushi but it's too cold to take the T into the city, so I decided to try the tiny little sushi place near my house. Bad. Idea. I had to email Tom at work.

"If you find me dead tonight, it's because I ate at Sushi Corner. Just to let you know."

4. No one can replace my watch battery. I went to 3 different jewelry stores, and they all said they'd have to send it out. The result of which would probably be at least 2 weeks without my watch, and about $30 to get it back. Not cool. Especially considering I took it to the Kay Jewelers in the mall in Alabama and for $10 and 5 minutes, I had a new battery. Kay Jewelers up here? "I'll have to send it out." Argh.

So, I'm back at home and I'm going to read a book. While hugging my space heater. And possibly later a bucket because seriously the sushi was such a bad idea. laters.

Holiday Toast

I came home from work the other night to find my boyfriend in the living room playing videogames. Next to the toaster.

Me: "What are you doing?"
Him: "Playing Crackdown."
Me: "Why is the toaster on the living room floor?"
Him: "I was going to toast a bagel, but the toaster caught on fire."
Me: "Fire?!"
Him: "Well, not really....a little bit. I pushed the bagel down and the instead of heating up, a puff of smoke just came up. I unplugged it and thought I could just leave it, but the little fire kept getting bigger, so I brought it into the living room so I could keep an eye on it."
Me: "You couldn't stay in the kitchen and watch it?"
Him: "I wanted to play Crackdown."
Me: "Oh."
Him: "You need a new toaster."

So, hopefully Santa will bring me a toaster. :-p

Everybody Ready?

It's time for another tirade about my landlady! Woo!

So, about a week and a half ago I wake up at 7 AM to my entire house shaking. Shaking. I go downstairs to figure out what the heck is going on and there it is. The now familiar sound of men yelling at each other about construction. Look out the window- the front porch is gone. Could I have walked out the front door and fallen 5 feet to my death? Sure. If I was deaf... or uninquisitive beyond all reason. But I'm neither of these and therefore was forewarned of the danger outside my front door. Did my landlady call to let me know this would be happening? Of course not. My parents' suggestion was that next time she does unannounced construction, I just take one for the team and then sue the crap out of her. That is looking more and more appealing by the day.

So, that day was the day before I left for my vacation in Alabama. I was getting everything ready to go- the plan was for Tom to come over whenever he wanted and drop my rent check off in my landlady's mailbox when we regained mailbox access. He would also have my car keys for the week in case he needed to drive my truck, or my landlady needed my truck moved (as happens usually at least once a week.) So, the night before I leave, my landlady calls. Keep in mind, this is about 10 PM.

Landlady: "Hey Sam, just wanted to call and let you know that they're working on the porch."
Me: "Yeah. I figured that out."
Landlady: "Yeah, I just needed to call and let you know...you know...officially."
Me: "Gotcha. Very helpful. Thanks. Oh, and just to let you know, I'm going out of town for a few days, but Tom will bring you the rent and if you need my car moved just give me a call cause he'll have the key."
Landlady: "Oh. Well, if I need your car moved, I need it moved right then. I can't be waiting for him to come over and move it. Why don't you just put your car key in my mailbox and that way I can move it whenever."
Me: "Yeah, I can't get to your mailbox cause there's no porch, and also I want Tom to have the car key so he can use my truck if he needs it."
Landlady: "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."
Me: "About what?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom."
Me: "Excuse me?"
Landlady: "We need to talk about Tom and the amount of time he spends there."
Me: "Why?"
Landlady: "Well, technically, he's a tenant."
Me: "No, he's not. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, technically the amount of time he spends here makes him a tenant."
Me: "No it doesn't. He doesn't live here, so he's not a tenant."
Landlady: "Well, don't worry about it right now, we'll talk about it when you get back."
Me: "Um....okay."

Really? She wants to talk about the amount of time my boyfriend spends here? She leased the apartment to me only having met him! I *told* her he would be here all the time! In the end, I parked my car at Tom's house for the duration of my vacation so that it wouldn't be spoiled by her calling me. I've never let her drive my car- despite her numerous requests- and I have no intention of doing so in the future. It really makes me miss living in apartment complexes. I hate sharing a wall with my landlady. Especially one that's as nosy as mine. Ugh. And she's seen Tom a couple times since I've been back and is yet to call me for a discussion about him. Too bad, since I consulted with a lawyer while I was in Alabama. (Aww....C, you're such a grown-up.) Actually I had a margarita or two with a lawyer, but she emailed me laws that I can use against my stupid landlady. So that was helpful. And margaritas were delicious. :)

So I came back to about 3 inches of snow on the ground and my landlady outside shoveling the driveway. My lease states that I have to share in the shoveling responsibilities. If she were a nice person, I would've gone inside, gotten a shovel and helped. But I hate her and therefore went inside so I wouldn't have to talk to her. She shoveled the entire driveway, and then I guess she went in the house. Did she lay down salt, or sand, or some sort of salt-sand-absorbent-hybrid? No. The next day was my driveway one giant sheet of deadly ice? Um, yes. Did it remain that way for 3 days? Yes. You see, my back porch light doesn't work....because she won't fix it. Instead she fixed the lighting problem by turning the motion sensor on the garage to the direction of my back door. This is great when I actually get to the door (assuming she hasn't turned the light off- which she does on occasion- she might actively be trying to kill me) but on the trip from the place where I park (a snowy bank to the side of the driveway) to the door, there is no lighting. So tiptoeing across a giant sheet of ice in the dark becomes my sad reality. Immediately following one of these death skates, I called her.

Me: "Hey, I just came in from my car and I was wondering- are you going to put down salt or sand or something because I'm totally going to die out there."
Landlady: "Oh, well, it's supposed to be like 30 tomorrow..."
Me: "Ookay? So salt...?"
Landlady: "I mean 40, it's supposed to be 40 tomorrow."
Me: "So you're saying it's going to melt tomorrow anyway, so you're not going to put anything down."
Landlady: "Right. Well, when it freezes like that the salt can't penetrate or anything so it wouldn't do any good. But, yeah, that's my responsibility to take care of putting stuff down out there, so don't worry about it."
Me: "Um...okay."

I don't know anything about salt for the purposes of winter, so I just go with it. Tom comes over and informs me that yes, duh, she should've laid the stuff down when she finished shoveling, but apparently my landlady is an idiot and she should go out there now and put something down. I go with the "it's gonna melt tomorrow anyway" defense and move on with my life. It's been over a week now, my driveway is yet to thaw- and last night there was freezing rain, which was a real treat when I walked outside at 7 AM. Driveway is slicker than ever. And now, the snowy bank parking has become icy rut parking. Tom had to push me out of my space this morning.

It's going to be a long winter.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Today I was cleaning my kitchen, looked down, and said:

"Oh my God, those baseboards are disgusting!"

And cleaned them. This is disturbing for the following reasons:

1. I noticed a baseboard.
2. I cleaned it without being asked to.
3. I felt better afterwards.

It's official- I've become my mother.

Little Miss Sunshine

I think my bluebird of happiness died. Seriously, I don't know what it is lately (yes I do) but I am totally miserable. Which is unusual for me. It doesn't take much to make me happy, but I think what little it does is lacking. Something has to be done. Luckily, I'm going home for a visit at the end of the month, so I have something to look forward to. Right now though, I'm wallowing through in "everything sucks" mode. And here's why:

1. Work. Work, work, a thousand times work. Which is perhaps the biggest blow to my happiness, because I have always taken a great deal of pride in what I do and how well I do it. My job is important, I'm good at it, and it helps people. Makes it possible to pull 24 hour shifts without committing suicide. When I was offered the position up here, everything was all "Oh, you have experience, you'll be off orientation in no time, blah blah blah." Lately it's been more, "This person thinks you should do this many things to be up to *our* standards" and then after I've completed those things, the rug is promptly pulled from beneath my feet and I'm starting again at ground zero. It's frustrating to say the least. It's going to make me tear my hair out. My big problem is that I don't see that big of a difference between what goes on up here and what went on at my old place of employ. I can do this job, I was hired to do this job, please for the love of God let me do my job and be happy. Also not on call every freaking weekend. I honestly have like a million more things to say about work, but I'll try and curtail it. Let's move on, shall we?
2. Home. My house is frigid. Like 12 degrees colder than outside. I wake up and need to go outdoors to warm up. It's kind of ridiculous. Also, my landlady is currently having the house painted. Toward that end, there is a man outside at this very minute pressure-washing the entire exterior of the house. Fine. What is not fine is being too lazy to move my two jack-o-lanterns and package from Amazon off the patio before you commence with the high pressure beam of ice water. Everything soaked. Pumpkins on the ground, saturated- those will be nice and easy to light tonight I'm sure. Halloween decorations on the door completely soaked. Cardboard of the Amazon box nice and and soggy. Way to be a total jackass, house painter guy.
3. People. I miss my friends. I miss my coworkers (who incidentally, were my friends.) I miss having lunch with someone other than my television and microwave. I miss going to the movies and eating ridiculous amounts of smuggled food out of C's Mary-Poppins-esque purse. I miss P randomly showing up at my apartment for a nap and I miss nights at the Phoenix.
4. Illness. I've been sick for a week now (thanks Mom.) Hacking my lungs out, choking on air, medicating to the point of having to Google "acetaminophen overdose", and otherwise feeling blah. (FYI, more than 4000 mg of tylenol in a day is bad news for your liver...says the girl who was at 3700 when she figured this out.)
5. It's cold. Did I mention I'm cold? Cause I am.

Anyways, I'm sure everything will get better. My Dad just sent me I swear to God 18 lbs of chocolate, so things are looking up already. I just can't wait to see everybody at the end of the month. Also, we're going to eat non-stop, because I can't narrow down which restaurants I miss the most. Prepare yourselves. :)

Interference

My landlady is making me crazy. She shouldn't be...because she really isn't doing anything wrong. However, the fact that she finds any little way to remind me that she exists drives me crazy. I'm used to living in apartment complexes. I sign the lease and pick up the key. One year later, I drop off the key. That is the extent of your impact on my life as a landlord. Or it should be. Here I'm living in the right side of a house that is split in half. My landlady lives in the other half. She parks in the driveway, I park in the sandy dirt beside the driveway (which will be interesting when it starts snowing.) I don't have a problem living near her. I just don't want it to seem like I'm living *with* her.

Whenever she's leaving town, she calls to let me know. I don't need to know. Then she says "So, just grab my mail and I'll get it from you when I get back." Umm...am I your b-fri? I think not. Get your own mail. Or get a friend who can pick up your mail. I really didn't have a problem grabbing her mail for her the first time. It would've been nice if she'd asked rather than assumed that it was okay to tell me what to do, but whatever. The real problem was that she said she'd be home Sunday. Instead she comes home Friday, then calls me at 10 PM asking me to bring her the mail. I'm not at home. "Okay, no problem. Just knock on the door when you get back." I hate her. 10 PM I'm skulking around the front door wondering whether I should ring the doorbell and wake up her kid, or just throw her mail in the street. I ended up leaving it on her doorknob then calling her so I wouldn't have to talk to her in person. I've had to get her mail twice since then. I hate her so much.

Another fun game is the driveway war we've been having. She has a two-car garage and a driveway. She only drives one car. However, I'm instructed to park in the sandy dirt beside the driveway. I keep mentioning its sandiness because it's almost impossible to get out of the passenger side of the truck. It's a hill and you just sink into the sand. Absolutely impossible after it rains, and probably my truck is going to be swallowed by the earth when it snows. So, I have the crappy spot, she has plenty of space. I come home from work one day, she's in my spot. Driveway's wiiide open. She's in my spot. So I park in the street. Two days later, there's some giant truck in my spot and it is pouring down raining. So I park in her spot. She calls me 30 minutes later asking me to move my truck. Turns out that the giant truck is hers too. She's getting a fence put around the backyard (that I'm not allowed to use) and she's been using the truck to haul stuff. Is it my fault that the contractors have been parking in her spot? No. Does the fact that her spot is being used for her own purposes give her license to use *my* spot? I think not. Seriously, do you see how petty I'm becoming? It's the fact that she's constantly doing little stuff that makes me want to hurl cats at her face.

Then yesterday, I pull into my driveway and I see that my trashcan is out at the curb. I'm sure she did this to be nice. However, my trash wasn't in the freaking can yet. Oh, but there was a bag of *her* trash in there. I realize that she's just trying to be nice, but come on! Use your own trashcan! Stop touching my stuff! Ugh.

So, she really doesn't do anything but remind me that she exists. But that's enough to make me absolutely crazy. Because if I like you, I will do anything for you...but if I don't like you, I'll do anything to forget you exist. And she's making that really hard for me. Stupid landlady.