It’s been, shall we say, a touch busy around here (mayhaps even an inappropriate touch…for which the MTA tells me a crowded train is no excuse). I would, as I have often instructed others and in the style of Alice in Wonderland, start at the beginning and when I get to the end stop, but I don’t really 100% remember where the beginning is or whether I am even at the end yet, so instead I will tell this in the style of a chubby chaser at an orgy, touching randomly and quickly on the parts that are a little thin but really concentrating where the meat is. (10 points to anyone who can tell me if “chubby chaser” is supposed to be hyphenated)
I have heard from @Blkmarketliver. He is all ensconced in med school life and is happier than a pig in shit that he can get Guinness Foreign Extra in Grenada. One of his classes this semester is Abnormal Psych. He told me it makes him think of me…I’m
The Gentleman is back up in Albany. There is not much more to that bullet point except I am now lacking in someone to make me laugh by mocking me mercilessly and then giving me a hug…based on that dynamic I’m kinda thinking the Abnormal Psych thing might not be study related.
Dumbdog, is still a lovable little fatty. Too much beer and potato chips…not Bourbon though…he does not like Bourbon. Here’s a picture from Wednesday night because he’s cute and I can.
I am started on my last semester in school. It is all I can do not to check out completely…Senioritis III: This time, it’s ridiculous!
But the reason that it has become so hard to care is the big news that I have been walking around crowing about all week and that, my dear friends, is that Indie Jake and I have secured quite possibly the best rental we could have ever hoped for.
That’s right, I have a NC address. And I want to put it on things. But I can’t because I don’t actually live there yet.
The process of finding the dream rental was a bit of a laugh though. There was the first place we looked at, which held much promise despite the worst Craigslist listing ever and a Realtor that reminded me a lot of my uncle. The place was a dump but a newly empty dump, so he kept trying to tell us that the things that were wrong would be fixed by his crew when they came through. To me, this is the real estate equivalent of “That shit’ll buff out”…that shit usually doesn’t buff out.
We also saw a unit that had a gorgeously huge kitchen that made me want to roll around on the counter space and lay spread eagle in the middle of the floor. (I did not do either of these things because it was in dire need of a good cleaning and also because I didn’t want Indie Jake to run out one of the far too many doors and leave me there.) It, however, needed a lot of work and had a basement that I’m pretty sure has some bodies in it.
Place number 3 may have been very lovely. I don’t know. The realtor never showed up. YOUR LOSS, BRENDA!
And then there was the dream rental. (Which I will take this time to remind IJ we only saw because I was stubborn and made him. You’re Welcome!) See and be amazed at how awesome it is:
I’m pretty sure Indie Jake thought I was going to burn it down at one point because Daddy told me, over the phone, to check how many panes thick the windows are, which you do by holding a flame in front of the glass and counting the number of reflections. In hindsight I might have wanted to tell him what I was doing.
So that, kids, is what is up. Possessions are going in boxes, job searching is starting in earnest, and I am trying my very hardest not to flip a big ol’ bird to the next 4 months.
…also, a pool should be started as to how long it will take my injury-prone self to get a concussion from the slanted ceiling at the top of the stairs.
My bet is 2 weeks.