If you told me 7 months ago that I'd be going on my road trip with anyone other than the cartographer from Arizona, I would have looked at you like you had three heads. If you told me 4 months ago that I'd be going with anyone other than myself, I'd tell you that you were smoking crack. Welp, it looks like that I'm now the three-headed crack smoker, because the road trip is happening, baby... I'm driving with John out to San Francisco for his big move. 1-2-3-4-1-2-3-4-ROCK FACTS ROCK FACTS ROCK FACTS.
Last night we got together and hammered out some details of what cities we had to stop in, how much goof-off time we'd realistically have and how much time would we really have to be hauling major ass. The very basic skeleton has been laid out on my calendar, though it's still being solidified.
There are some hurdles I must overcome though, because we've got to adhere to John's timetable rather than the one I had originally mapped out myself when this was still a solo endeavor.
I'm using his moving as the little kick-in-the-arse-inspiration I need to dump out the junk from my apartment. I have bags and bags of old clothes which need to go, as well as general stuff which will make someone else very happy. The Salvation Army is gonna pick up the couches and clothes he's abandoning, so I'm gonna throw my old stuff on the truck as well. Get it ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut, and close that silly chapter of my life. Buh-bye. It's gonna feel great, I'm getting giddy just thinking about having storage space again.
It does seem that in the past week everything in my apartment is breaking. It's weird. My dishwasher isn't washing so much as merely warming and redistributing the food particulates; my lower-level hall lightswitch goes bzzzt bzzt zzzzzt when you flip it (the upper-level lightswitch which controls the same light works fine though... this stopped working right after Bill inserted the tamale-esque squirrel bombs in my attic-- surely unrelated incidents), my bathtub is leaking water between the drywall and the paint on the drywall resulting in a 2" x 3" blister on the wall after each shower, and bugs are just sauntering into my apartment through the gap under my front door (I can only imagine what I'm paying to air condition the outside world each month.) This all must make it sound like I live someplace sucky, but I must say, this is the only apartment I'd ever choose in Delaware. I really like the management, they fix stuff when you tell them it's broken, and the apartment layout rocks entirely.
Squirrel update: After Bill the Squirrel Guy came and gave the rodent his Hot Tamale of Stinkitude in an effort to drive it out, the squirrel merely laughed and used the tamale materials for furniture in his bachelor pad. (This is like the Iraqis using an American missile as a sassy, art deco end-table.) Just this morning I was doing some work at my computer desk, and rattle rattle rattle... I look up, and there are squirrel tootsies again. I got a little irked at it, so I climbed up on my desk and beat on the air vent and the dude didn't even move. It was like he was taunting me, saying, "Your hot stinky tamale and your futile puny banging are not even worth the effort it would take me to flinch. Feh!" I feel like Elmer Fudd after he just got a big, wet smooch from Bugs Bunny. I'm calling Bill the Squirrel Guy back tomorrow morning and I'm gonna tell him to strap on his Bill Murray/Caddyshack artillery and give this a go. This means war. I will not live under the cruel dictatorship of this rodent; I need Bill The Squirrel Guy to liberate me and free me from my squirrely bondage. (mmmm... squirrely bondage.)
Oh and lastly... as for me moving this website section solely over to LiveJournal, I've opted against it. Instead, I think I'm just gonna copy this text into my entries over there... this way the LJ people can have their one-stop shopping, and you guys who don't give a crap about Live Journal can go where you always went... right here. It takes me a whole two seconds to do this little extra step; I think it's worth it.
|Fortune Teller Miracle Fish today tells me that I am: Indifferent. Sure, why not?|