A Home

It took exactly seven days, but Thing Two and I are officially living in the new apartment. We spent all last week picking out paint colors and then…you know…painting walls and whatnot. I was so excited when this process started because, aside from my previous apartment, I really had never lived in a place that I was permitted to paint. (Landlords and their crazy rules!) The thing is, my landlord doesn’t care about any of it. He is prepared to do the bare minimum at the property because he knows, because of the location, he will never have trouble renting it out. Either way, we spent days and days and days going to work for 8-10 hours, coming home, changing clothes and getting covered in paint By the end of the week, we were exhausted and delirious on paint fumes and spiced rum and we were just ready to get everything moving from point A to point B.

Friday afternoon, I picked up some big ticket furniture items and then delivered them home for Thing Two to assemble. After that, it was all just a matter of getting the 80 million items from my studio apartment and spreading them about in our lovely two-bedroom. (Freshly painted, mind you…) And by Saturday night, all of the stuff had been stashed conveniently in the new “office” where it can remain out of sight (and out of mind) until I feel like I can sort through it without going completely insane. (Read: Not today.)

But we are in. Meals have been cooked, dishes have been washed, cigars have even been smoked and I have to tell you, internet, we both feel great about it. I can’t, however, say the same for Ernge, who seems more confused about the added space than anything else. He runs around the house over and over  like he is seeing it for the first time. (Which, lets face it, he might be. He is, after all , almost ten years old.)

The only pressing thing left to do is to buy a couch. Which, I haven’t owned since my days of living with Jer. More stuff to move = annoying. But, I think it will be pretty nice to own all of my stuff again. And it will be nice to have a couch to nap on.

The Week in Review...

The last seven days have been pretty much...the shittiest seven days in a row that I have had in a while.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of being involved in it personally, here is a little recap.

Friday: Spliff took off for a trip to South Florida to visit a dying relative so I was super stoked about having the night to myself. Ernge decided to give me the luxury of taking a vacation but then The Kid came over anyway, to give me a cigarette (I "quit" two weeks ago) so that I wouldn't pull all of my hair out. Alone time? No. Panic? Oh hell yes.

Saturday: I woke up at 8am, still in a panic, but also completely hung over from the bottle of wine I drank while trying not to smoke cigarettes. (Note: Do not try and replace cigarettes with booze. It does not work. And if you were thinking that you would feel more guilty for smoking than for drinking, you will find that when you wake up and your head feels like an elephant sat on it overnight, a few cigarettes would have been well worth it. I'm just saying.) I canvased the neighborhood looking my little (read: huge) bastard cat with no luck, so I decided to go and spend the day with Anthony and Clifftopher. This would have been fine if Anthony and Clifftopher were...normal people. But they aren't. And they had woken up and immediately started drinking beer. So by the time I got there, Anthony was already well on his way to a drunken stupor and Clifftopher's first sentence to me after he found out Ernge was missing was, "Oh, that sucks! We hit a cat last night on our way back to work. It wasn't yours though, he looked just like Spliffany's cat." Wonderful. Way to ease a girl's mind. Now I am trying to remember when the last time I saw her was too. Everything was downhill from there. I narrowly escaped sometime between the opening of the Captain and the purchase of bottle number 2. And then I spent the rest of the night either crying hysterically or, well, crying hysterically.

Sunday: I finally got my alone time. Only, I couldn't sit still long enough to enjoy it. I got up entirely too early and started to cook. Yep. 8:30 am and I am making mango salsa, a breakfast casserole, and contemplating guacamole. All at the same time. The kitchen looked like a disaster but I didn't have time to panic until the kitchen was clean, the bathtub scrubbed and my toenails painted. Then came the waterworks. They were so bad this time that I actually had to take ten minutes to gain my composure so that I could call Spliffany and tell her that I hadn't found Ernge yet. I never need composure to talk to Spliffany. That's why we're friends. As soon as I hung up though, I heard that familiar, shrill "meow" coming from downstairs, for the first time since THURSDAY. And when I ran downstairs, barefoot and across my gravel driveway, (don't mind my bloody feet) I was just in time to see his big, poofy orange tail darting in the opposite direction. I figured he wouldn't stay away much longer now, the little fatty must have been hungry. Crisis averted!

Monday: Relieved by the fact that there was a large orange furball sleeping beside me when I woke up, but exhausted due to lack of restful sleep because of all the utter panic, I went to work where the mere mention of a happy hour get together is completely frowned upon...because everyone except about 5 of us is a recovering addict. So naturally, the girls and I decided to head out after work to celebrate 4/20 at E-Street. Which was all fine and good until about 9 o'clock when everyone decided that it would be a better idea to turn happy hour into some sort of obscenely late evening. Spliffany went home, leaving me with the three girls who were left, two of whom were hitting on inappropriate boys and the other who was bitching about the other two. I, and this might come as a shock, internet, STOPPED drinking...In order to help preserve the dignity and safety of the youngins. And, if I do say so myself, I did a damn good job. I yelled at people about being silly and called a taxi but then faltered at the end of the night when I was too tired to argue about letting someone drive me home. And then, there were cops. And there was drama. But luckily for her, there was no DUI and there was a taxi just waiting to rescue us. When I got home at close to 3am, I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to my favorite boy, and there he was, purring at me when I walked into the room! YAY!

Tuesday: All that happened of note on Tuesday is that I was an hour and 15 minutes late to work due to the lateness of my evening and inability to WAKE THE HELL UP when my alarm goes off...and the fact that I had to pick up a coworker (whose car was on the side of the road from the night before) before coming in. I did end up going shopping after work and rewarding myself with adorable flip-flops and an awesome dress (whish The Kid later told me was unflattering...to which I replied, "I don't care, it's comfy." Because it really could be the ugliest thing in the world, but I feel naked in it...so...whatever...I look like a cow. What else is new? But just a note: If you are my boyfriend, you are supposed to tell me that I am a goddess. All the time.)

Wednesday: BAD. BAD. BAD. But also sort of a relief. I might actually figure my head out. That's all.

Yesterday: A huge, annoying blur of crap that ended at 9pm when I hurled myself into dreamland.

Today: Pretty much the same as yesterday only will hopefully end in a bottle of wine. And there better not be any missing cats when I get home.

The Outsiders

I don’t understand why no one can comprehend what I mean when I say, “I’m not in the mood for people.” I mean, it means just what I said.

It means I want to wake up on a Saturday morning without hearing giggling or yelling. I want to take up my whole bed (leaving, of course, the obligatory spot for Ernge) and not worry about tossing and turning. I want to make coffee and sit on the porch and read for an hour without interruption when I wake up. I want to do all of the things that I do when there are no extra bodies in my apartment. Which would require there to be NO EXTRA BODIES.

The thing about having a roommate is that I don’t get to make this call. I can’t control who comes to my apartment or when they come over or how long they stay or how much noise they make. And normally, I don’t mind either way. Normally, I would join in on the noise and ridiculousness. But there are times when I just, to maintain what little sanity I have left, need there to be a few simple conditions. Nothing over the top, I just want to feel like I am home. I want to feel the peace and tranquility that I used to get from a day spent alone (or at least partially, I mean, I wouldn’t kick the roommate out because again, hanging out with her isn’t much different from being alone).

There are a handful of activities that aren’t the same when faced with “outsiders”. For instance, I don’t close my bedroom door when I sleep or when I change clothes. Firstly, because when I sleep, Spliff is usually sleeping so she isn’t running around the house trying to keep me awake…(well…USUALLY…heh heh) and secondly because Ernge likes to wander in and out of my room throughout the night to eat and drink and pee all over the kitchen floor. He doesn’t like it when doors are closed. He tends to yell. And yes, he YELLS. I can change with the door open because I am fairly certain that Spliff is not concerned with seeing me naked. I appreciate this about her. We have an understanding: She doesn’t want to see me naked and I don’t want to see her naked. So when I say, “I’m about to be nude” she does not stop the conversation, but she might wander away until I am out of her line of sight. This system works both ways and is very efficient. “Outsiders” require closed doors and interrupted conversations. I hate that shit.

Living alone was great in this respect because a) I only had one door in my apartment and b) no one came over unless I invited them. But it lacked the hilarity that comes with living with my best friend. It lacked the idiotic conversations and uncontrollable laughing. It lacked a whole lot of things. And I missed it. But on days like today, I just wish that I could have it back…just for, like 48 hours.

I Spoke too Soon

Just when I thought the transition was going to be easy.

Turns out, the townhouse that “we” fell in love with is already taken. Which is both good and bad. The part that sucks is that the rent was perfect and the deposit was NOT one month’s rent (it was only half!). This is a rarity. Normally, I’ve found, people want the first month’s rent AND an equal deposit. I’m not shocked about this. I just wish it wasn’t so.

Anyway, it looks like we will be going with the second place apartment. Which, was only second place due to its lack of fenced in yard, and you know…second floor. It is, in fact, three blocks or so closer to the beach. (Thus, putting us three blocks from the beach.) And because we are spoiled brats, we are still further from it than we would like. Yep. We are bitches. (I feel the need to quote Winona and just say, “Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.” Ahem…I feel better, don’t you?)

So, the plan is to put the deposit (of entirely too much money) down on the place today. We have already spoken to the lady who seems enthusiastic about renting to us anyway and being that we already know the neighborhood (it is just a few short blocks from our LAST shack…er…apartment.) and the neighbors (Magic Mike and The Molester will be closer than EVER.), it won’t take much to get back into the groove of living there. I’m excited for my psyche, not so much for my bank account.

I’m sure it will all work out. Now I just have to focus on getting all of my shit packed again! AGAIN. Next time, I am setting fire to all of it in the front yard. Except Ernge.

Pee and Claustrophobia

You know its laundry day when you find yourself wearing the pants that have sat, untouched in your closet for over a year. Fortunately for me, I have managed to keep off the little bit of weight I have lost and they don’t look half as bad as I remember. And they are soft and kind of feel like pajamas. These horrible pants are the best pants ever.

Ernge is (again) using the world as his litterbox (including various inhabitants of said world) and is starting to really piss me off (no pun intended). Why can he not pee where he is supposed to pee? Does he see ME peeing on anyone/anything? No. (Well, there was that one time…but we won’t talk about that.) The shit needs to stop. If it doesn’t, I will cut him. And he knows me well enough to know that I don’t fuck around. And if he needs to be acquainted with a toilet, it can be arranged. (On a side note though, Pookie has kids instead of cats, and she woke up the other day with one of THEM puking on her HEAD...and that still makes me giggle.)

I had to have an MRI on Monday. I had never had an MRI before. In fact, I’d never even had any sort of x-ray until about two years ago so it was pretty interesting. They have to ask you when you check in if you are claustrophobic. I can say one thing, I get kind of freaked out in elevators, when they are full. When there isn’t any room to move. I start to spaz. So, I kept thinking that I would totally freak out in this little tube and start thrashing around and seriously injure myself. But, I learned something about me on Monday, I just don’t fucking like people standing that damn close to me. You can put me in a tiny tube and keep me there all day, and as long as there is no old guy who smells like mothballs breathing on me, I am peachy.

Also, (and I guess I should mention this because everyone is asking me all the time) it seems I am going to be staying here in The Sunshine State. A lot has been going on. My mind has been all over the place and in weighing my options, it seems like the best place to be is home. There were many, many factors in my decision to stay and while, I don’t intend to stay here forever, I think that the circumstances in this situation are way too risky. For everyone involved. And THAT, my friends, makes me feel a little claustrophobic. So, there.

Ghost and I’m out. (I don’t know why I can’t stop saying that…)

Connectivity and the New Place

I don’t get very good cell reception in my new apartment, which is distressing because I really don’t want to get a phone-phone. I had one for years and rarely even answered it. It just seems silly. But then, so does missing phone calls all day.

I think I finally figured out how to get home from work without running into insane traffic. Pookie, being my new neighbor and working just minutes from the hospital, was kind enough to show me a very curvy and very back-roady way home so that I can avoid the death trap that is the interstate.

I have already received invites to go out and party in my new ‘hood, which is a pretty good feeling. I met a few people here and there and then, of course, visited with ones that I have known for years. You know, the ones that I never saw because of the requirement of “crossing the ditch” as we beach-dwellers like to call it.

Ernge is back his old cranky self that he was before he was permitted to brave the great outdoors. I hated the idea of keeping him as an inside cat now that he has tasted freedom, but it has to be done. Mainly because the entrance to my building is not one that he could yell (yes, he yells) at for me to let him in. Aside from that, pets aren’t even allowed here. So there ya go. I am breaking the law. I am a big law-breakin’, cat havin’, unpackin’, chick, and I ain’t skerrd.

I am disconnecting from the world now. Thank you, and goodnight.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: “Breakin’ Down” – Ben Harper