So, for the past week, Thing Two and I have been trying to adjust to our new digs while simultaneously trying to chase people out of our new digs and into…you know…anyone else’s. We’ve just moved in and have already had a lengthy visit from L and several drunkards passed out in random spots throughout the apartment. I know, I know, this is what I wanted when I got a place with rooms. A place where my friends would feel comfortable staying (and not having to sleep in the closet or with half of their body in the “kitchen” while the other half is blocking the way to the bathroom). So, I would like to say, “Yes. Mission accomplished. Now get out.”
L’s visit was not completely just a social call (however, the actual amount of ANYTHING other than texting she does in a day is miniscule at best). I had lined her up an interview at my office since we recently got rid of someone (who I trained for three months and complained about every day until FINALLY, the powers that be recognized that she was illiterate and maybe mildly retarded). Even though L has successfully avoided working at all in the last two years, I knew she would be a better fit for my office than the last one. (L can read. And she is a lesbian. Which is almost a prerequisite to work in my office. I am not sure why they hired me. I am going with boobs, though. My boobs are good.) Either way, she got the job and will start next Monday but in the meantime, she has to find somewhere to live. There was talk of her moving temporarily upstairs into my old studio while she gets settled into the position at work, but being that she hasn’t worked in a billion years and has no money and her dad will be paying for the place (at least initially), he gets the final say. And of course, it is a studio. So…he is protesting and being pretty annoying and practically insisting that Thing Two and I just let her and her two yappy little dogs move into our place. You know. “For now.”
No.
It isn’t that I don’t want to help my friend out. But I think I did my part. I got her a job. I shouldn’t have to give her a place to live too. And feed her. And try to grow accustomed to my new life with Thing Two while she is all up in our way. I am just not a fan of this idea. It took me forever to get out of roomie-hood and into this rather adult way of life and the last thing I want is a squatter. Dammit. Of course, if it comes down to it, I will give her a place to stay (hopefully, VERY temporarily) but, I just kind of want to settle in now. And I don’t think that is too much to ask. It isn’t, right?
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