Well, there are only two more days in the apartment that crazy built and then we will be onto the newest chapter in the book of "Where the hell is Criz going to live now?!"
The apartment is seeming not so much packed up as it is completely cluttered and badly in need of a cleaning and the overwhelmed feeling I get when I set foot inside does nothing but make me want to hide in the closet until it is all over. Of course, the new tennants probably wouldn't like that…and I am positive that a life in the closet is not for me. Either way, it is almost over and more and more, I just want to pull my hair out. I want to throw boxes off of the balcony instead of straining my already decrepit spine to carry them all downstairs. I want to pay someone to pack boxes and do laundry and clean the bathroom. I just want to scream.
The psycho landlord called Spliff yesterday to ask her when she was going to get the cable turned off because the new tenant is spazzing out because the cable company won't let him turn it on until ours is turned off…I think that the fucktard can live without cable for a day or two, after all, me and Spliff might be living without WATER! So, really, the last thing on my list of things to worry like crazy about is the new tenant's cable. Fuck you, moron. Read a book.
Other than that, the week has been fairly uneventful, there were a couple of hands of "Asshole" the other day that led to JM asking over and over again, "What about these 2 fours? Can I get rid of these bitches?" And a heated debate about what kind of animal "Arthur" is. ("anteater - nose does not = antelope", is as far as we got.) So, yeah, really all I have done this week is worry and pack. And this is, of course, the week that I find out that MP is in jail, I have a history test, I have to keep answering questions about my new single status, and I have to pack up my entire goddamn apartment and move it to another one which is half the size and will probably get hit by a meteor in a week anyway. Fuck.