I have not abandoned this blog - not on purpose, at least - and I know I've already used the "work doesn't let me spend all day blogging" excuse, but I have to plead it again. And in two new ways: 1) They took away my gmail! They were already attempting to block all email, but had overlooked gmail, which I could use to mail in posts (which I only did about once, but still, the option was there), and 2) for the last 2 and a half weeks, everything is "an emergency." Everything is urgent, and this urgency is coming from multiple sources (meaning multiple "emergencies") all at once. Causing me to be all tensed up in front of a computer for too many hours, and by the time I'm home, my right shoulder and hand are all cramped up from too much mouse use. Seriously, something has to be done about the shoulder.
So here I am posting just for the sake of posting! Hi! I did have a couple of different topics I was going to write about, but I've forgotten them all. (Another side-effect of work: my brain is so tired by the end of the day! Stinks.) I do remember one was going to be a list of disturbing moments I had had recently, but I can only remember one of those, and that doesn't exactly make a list, does it? But I will tell it to you anyway!
So, I was driving one evening, and while stopped at a light, looked up and saw a sign that read "Fall Festival" - and I immediately got very excited! Because a fall festival sounds like the bestest! And I wanted to go! And then I read more, and saw that that this festival would include a petting zoo. "hmm," I thought, "ok, I must be in front of a school. That's ok. It's ok that I'm excited about something targeted at small children." So then I looked further and saw a sign that read, "Such-and-such Assisted Living. With a special unit for the memory impaired."
Wow. While I'm ok with being a kid, I am not quite so ok with being elderly. And this isn't a little elderly. This is A LOT elderly. Or AM I ready to be put in a home? I mean, I clearly don't like working. I wonder if they have age minimums at those things...
I do have news. I'm moving. Just locally, but it's a move all the same. In fact, my living situation since July is something that could have provided a whole stream of blogworthy material, if only I wasn't too ashamed to write about it. See, my old place that I lived in with Creepy Man was bought, and the new owner decided to renovate and kicked us all out, and I decided I'd be a big girl and buy a home. (And by "home" I mean "tiny condo.") But through a complex series of events, I changed my mind. In the meantime, I needed somewhere to stay while I carefully made me buying decision. So I put all my things in storage, and moved into a temporary living arrangement. That was supposed to be no longer than a couple of months. And here I am at the end of November, with all my winter clothes and shoes in a storage unit in the 'burbs. So I decided it was time to take some action, and I found myself an apartment. Because if December isn't busy enough, I need a move on top of everything else.
And this move is significant because it will be my first time living by myself! I'm excited and a little nervous at the same time. (As one "friend" recently said, "You're moving just in time to be alone for the holidays." Thanks.)
So, before I settled on this ancient apartment with it's ancient fixtures in an ancient building, I was considering other apartments in equally old buildings that were much newer and cuter on the inside and outside. But they were also smaller and more expensive. But everytime the rental lady pointed out something like, "Yes, there's only one closet, but it's a good sized closet!" I found myself thinking, "Totally! It's a great closet! I can definitely fit my extradnarily large amount of crap in here!" Because I am easy like that - I want to believe everything I'm told.
So before committing to these cute pricey apartments, I thought it would be a good idea to bring in a second opinion. I need someone with a critical eye. And who has the most critical eyes in the world? Our mothers.
That poor, poor rental lady. She took me through every one of those apartments again, this time with my mother in tow. And I was right, she was critical. About EVERYTHING. She made me want to hide.
It was everything from, "hm. This is it? hm. It sure is small."
to, "I don't know why it's so dark in this closet." (Lady points out that there's a light.) "Well, I KNOW there's a light. But why on earth are these closest walls so dark? I can't imagine why you haven't painted them white."
to, "Now, what about that window?"
Rental Lady and I both look around, confused. Because we are outside the building, and my mom is pointing at something away from the apartment. We locate a random window in a stairwell.
Rental Lady: "You mean... the cobwebs...?"
Mom: "No. Are they going to replace that window? It's different from the other windows."
RL: "uh... if they haven't now, then no, probably not."
Mom: "Hmph."
to,
Rental Lady: "This was my husband's apartment before we got married." (big smile)
Mom: "This is my least favorite so far."
but my favorite was this series:
Mom: "I smell gas."
RL: "We just painted."
Mom: "It smells like gas."
RL: We JUST painted. I think it's the paint."
Mom assumes a hunched over position, and with her nose in the lead, commences to smell every appliance in the kitchen. we go to the next apartment, and she does it again. She doesn't just look, she SMELLS.
I got my 2nd opinion all right. She told me that although they were cute, with all my stuff, I would "junk them up." So I went with the old place with a little more closet space. Although I have to wonder, if the owner had been showing it to us, instead a cute friendly girl who lived there and had nothing to gain, would I have been influenced the same way?
I know my mother, and I'm going to say probably not.
Well, I'm off to pack! I have a 2 year old niece to play with tomorrow. And I'm guessing you didn't make it this far through this disjointed post, anyway.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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