The College Boys are moving out. They've only been my balconymates for about three months, and they currently hold the record for the quickest turn around in balconymates I've had since I moved in. I should go give them a certificate, or a gold star, or a fruit basket. Boys like fruit, right?

The College Boys moved in about the end of September, which means they've lived here a grand total of 98 days, clearly making them the winner. Trendy Couple moved in a week after I moved in, and moved out about six months later. Imaginary Couple (so named because I never saw them, ever, mearly heard about them from other neighbors) lived there for about seven months and With-Two-Kids lived across the way from me for about eight months.

The bowl across the way sat empty for the rest of the time, which I have to say, I enjoyed purely because it meant that nobody came upstairs on this end of the building but me.

The College Boys are the first balconymates I've had since I've lived here that I've actually seen move out, all the rest must have moved out in the dead of night or when I wasn't home, because one day they were just gone. I gotta tell you Figs, it creeped me out a little. I'm pretty observant, so when a whole bowlfull of people and stuff vanishes without me noticing, I start to think maybe I feel into a John Saul novel.

What's really funny about this whole moving thing, however, is just a couple days ago I had a conversation with The Fishmonger about The College Boys and if they still lived there, because I hadn't seen them in over a week (I should say here, that actually I hadn't heard them in over a week) and I was told they did, and I casually mentioned that I thought they were going to move out, and was told that they weren't. Very firmly, in fact.

Now they're moving out in a huge rush, including banging their furniture on my bowl door trying to wrestle it down the stairs, dropping stuff off the balcony, and yelling at each other. Why? Because rent is due today, and they're trying to move out so they don't have to pay January's rent. Naughty, naughty boys. I bet they didn't even give notice either.

G'bye College Boys! I will miss your drunken rages, your fights through the front door, and your clamoring up and down the stairs at all hours of the night like a herd of cattle. I wish you the best.

I pick up the apartment keys today. I need to do the walk through where you write down everything that's wrong with the place so they can't charge you for it after you move out. After that though, I'm totally clear to move in, so I need some volunteers to help me move furniture.

Hey! Don't close the browser! I'll give you a cookie if you come help me. Two cookies? Um...the whole bag of cookies? Fine. Be that way.

Before I can do anything though I've got a lab. Today in lab we are dissecting Termites to study the contents of their stomach. It's like an episode of inter-college Fear Factor or something. Lucky me.

HotD:


I don't like to move.
Unless there are cute, strong guys
To move stuff for me.

No new layout. I lied. However, I have fantastic news. Well, it's fantastic for me at least, perhaps not for unsuspecting innocents. I got the apartment! I can move in on Thursday. How's that for swanky? I'm so completely excited, I even made up a little apartment song. It's sung to the tune of "We Just Got a Letter/We Just Figured Out Blues Clues" or whatever the real name of the song is from Blues Clues and goes like this:

I just got an apartment. I just got an apartment.
I just got an apartment, and it's really great.

Ok, so it's not the most creative piece of lyrical prose on the face of the planet, and it may or may not have a really geeky and slightly embarrassing dance that goes along with it, but I really don't care. I got my apartment, and it's fantastic.

I'll post pictures as soon as I get my keys, if anyone would like to play voyeur and perhaps stalk me. I don't mind, just bring a housewarming gift because that's just good manners.

HotD:


Today is Monday.
I got a new apartment,
And a headache too.

Lane (that's the sister) is refusing her surgery on her hand. So her doctor wants to set the entire thing in a cast of some sort, so she can use it as a weapon in school can't move it.

Why won't she go through the surgery? Because she doesn't want to wake up with an I.V. in her arm. Now, I hate needles as much as the next person, and I've been known to feel a little faint when they pull out the harpoon, especially when they start collapsing my veins. But really, is not having the surgery because there will be an I.V. in your arm worth never being able to properly hold a pencil to write foul words on bathroom stalls again? I don't think so, but hey, it's not my body.

If her choice is to try having it set and keeping it immobile for months then I support her. I hope that this works for her, and doesn't make it so that when she plays Volleyball in the future (she wants to do it professionally, I don't get it, but then again, I'm not really a sporty girl) that it doesn't lead to more serious injury.

Update on the apartment (because I know you all were hanging on the edges of your seat) I should know by tomorrow night if I got it. Well, let me rephrase that: I got the apartment, I should know by tomorrow night if my credit is so non-existent that I need a co-signer. I'm really hoping not, because last time I checked, my credit was good enough for Sprint to give me my cellphone without demanding a wad of cash soaked in a bucket of goats blood. Just keep those piggies crossed a teensy bit longer for me, alright?

HotD:


Ravioli soup.
You are so very tasty,
And good for me too.

Well it seems the Apartment God/s/ess/divine entities/demiurge/demon/fairy/chicken/whatever has smiled down upon me and refrained from giving me a swift maniacal kick in the tushy on this one. I am pretty sure I found an apartment...on my first go `round!

It's an extremely adorable two bedroom/two bath with a ton of appliances included (washer, dryer, dishwasher, fridge, stove, garbage disposal...which scare me, but that's an entire different post all together) and sewer, water and garbage paid. I'm completely stoked, to top it all off, it's only two blocks away from campus and is actually affordable. It's like a fairytale. All I need is a handsome prince and a tiara and I'm set.

I turn in paperwork tomorrow, and I should know by the end of the week. Cross those piggies for me, would you? I really want this one, and if I have to pay any more application fees I'm pretty sure I'll be moving into a watertower.

Because you love it: THotD


It is really cold.
Frosty windows and frozen
Tootsies galore, yo.

Today I officially unofficially officially turned in my apartment keys. I had over a week ago, but my landlady called with another one of her 'could you for me' and I got conned into repicking up the keys and not only bug bombing the apartment for her, but cleaning it again and sorting and cleaning out all her ruined items (Probably.....40 boxes and a dozen bags of stuff, mainly books that were moldy and sogging) that got wet from the water heater that she stored in the garage while I lived there.

I've been moved out for nearly two weeks now and she's still calling Multiple times daily and taping notes to the front door of the apartment when I haven't been there in almost two weeks. I'm glad to be out of there and done with it.

Oh well, my next place will be better anyway.

I dragged my zombie like carcass to a party last night. (Happy Birthday Joe) It's the first time in a good month that I've done any sort of socializing that didn't have children or work or a current event in my life attached to it. It was a shame that I was too out of it to really enjoy it. I spent most of the night trying not to fall asleep or drool on the person sitting next to me.

I managed a bit of yacking it up with a fellow author, who hinted that she's got a new book on the way, but wouldn't really tell me more then that. I ment to ask her about her writers group, to see if I could still get back in it (I was invited once before but never made the meetings). I know that she was involved with two others one critique and one normal type writers group. I'd rather be a part of the latter then the first, I'm not quite prepared enough with any manuscripts to have them blown to bits. Unfortunately, my moronic-like state left me being a total airhead and I didn't remember about wanting to ask her until I was halfway home.

Other then that I mostly wandered aimlessly and stared off into space. Ate some good food, had a piece of cake (Which is surprising to me, because I never eat it), listened to people say some really touching things and cry. Luckily, I was too night-of-the-living-deaded out to cry. All in all, it was a nice quiet evening.

Today I plan on doing one last clean of the apartment (sans garbage in the garage that doesn't belong to me. I refuse to pay the money for a dumpster to throw away things that were ruined when the water heated exploded that belong to the owner. I'm nice, and I feel horrible about leaving garbage in the apartment, even if it doesn't belong to me, but my niceness in this situation is slowly evaporating) and returning the keys. Then I think I might just spend the rest of the day goofing off, maybe I'll make a new layout for IBOM or just be completely irresponsible. It is, after all, Saturday.

"Mommy, when I grow up, I want to be a professional mover."

I'm almost all done moving. The only things currently left are large piles of things that don't belong to me in the garage. The more I stare at it, the more I'm convinced it's secrectly breeding when I turn my back. It's trying to breed enough to reach the step and get me. I think it overheard me mention the words 'trip to the dump' while I was wildly gesturing at it through the garage windows.

If I don't come back today, you know why.

So far I've managed to pin three owners of the Stuff in My Garage That Doesn't Belong To Me™ to come and get their stuff, or at least tell me what to do with their stuff. Unfortunatly other peoples things still remain, including the Landladies (whom, really was very illegal to store things in my garage) who asked me to just see if I could store it in someone elses apartment, which is something I'm not going to do.

I think I'm just going to have to leave it there, since it belongs to her. This eliminates nearly half of the stuff in the garage. This is wonderful, because it means that I'll be completely finished a good two or three hours earlier then I thought I would be. That is, of course, if I don't get smothered by disgruntled yard sale junk first.

Today a tiny factoid dawned on me a great bit thwack upside my already addled little head while I was in the middle of a conversation that had nothing to do with it (this just goes to show how absolutely spaztic I really am).

I've lived in my place for four years.

I've HAD my place for five years this next June, I've only lived there for four. It's a long story that involves lots of laziness and unwilling foreign bathroom fixtures.

Anyway, as I sitting in sort of a shocked shockness I baffled over how fast time goes by, how really little time people have and how important it is to me to accomplish everything I want. I also realized something else that completely soured my mood and is almost as sad and pathetic as not living in my apartment but still paying rent for almost five months.

I still haven't unpacked all my crap.