So... since I last posted, Anna and I have acquired a house. And then we moved into said house. Yeah, I know... I'm bad about these things. We'll take some pictures when things finish getting cleaned up to make it up to you.
In any event, I would like to thank my friends who have made this all possible: Ardith and Jason Hoyt, The Moores, Barbour, Maples, and my wife's cousin Heather and cousin's boyfriend Jeff. I'd like to especially thank Barbour and the Moores for making long drives and Ardith for helping out on not one, but two weekends.
Weekend one (for which the Moores came out) involved moving all of my stuff out of storage and into my house. That all went fairly well and made my new house seem much smaller, now that it was full of stuff. This said, it was really nice to get out of that tiny apartment. Also, I'm not going to miss the Zombie... not at all.
This last weekend marked Barbour driving up as well as Heather and Jeff driving out from the Milwaukee area. Oddly enough, this is also where the Moores live, so it would seem that I have trips to Wisconsin in my future. Also, this means that there should be a steady stream of quality beer being brought to me... but I digress. In this last weekend, we started to unpack all of the stuff that the first shift of friends brought in and put it away. Anna is happy to report that the kitchen is in good order. Oh... and the fridge is happily stocked with beer, cheese and wine. I'm pretty happy.
Also, after two weeks, the damages on new expensive stuff that I've had to buy as a home-owner:
5 book-shelves (2 5-shelf, 3 3-shelf)
2 sets of curtains
1 lawn mower
1 new wooden desk for Anna
Really, I'm quite pleased, albeit slightly poorer. I'd also really like to thank God for giving me such gracious friends. I mean, yes, I buy food and beer (and top-shelf booze) for my friends who come out to help, but most of them are busy people who could take the money for the gas and the time and buy their own food and beer and not have to work... so I'm really thankful for them.
I'd also like to make a special note of thanking Jason Hoyt by not mocking him for waiting until nearly making it to 21 before even getting his drivers' license. I'd also like to note that I'm not mocking him for having his little sister getting her license before he did. See Jason? I don't give you a hard time ALL of the time.
So The Zombie* and I have had a variety of inane conversations and she's convinced me that she's really not the smartest woman. Here's the most recent:
So I left notice on Friday with the Zombie that we're moving out at the end of the month. When I got out of the lab on Friday afternoon, my cell phone had a message on it. I checked it, and it was the Zombie telling me that they wanted to show my apartment and that I should call them back to confirm. Well, obviously, my apartment is a mess and I don't want it shown, so I called back and got a busy signal. So this morning I called back again, left a message with their answering service and gave her my office number (not for the first time) for them to call me.
The Zombie: "So, we're showing your apartment at 11 am this morning... is that okay?"
The Cynic: "No, I would rather that you not do that."
Z: "Well, you should have called us back on Friday when we called your cell phone... it's scheduled now."
VC: "Wait a second... So you can schedule my apartment for showing unless I call you up to tell you I don't want to?"
Z: "Well... so long as you're there, you have the right to refuse, but I already scheduled the showing."
So at this point I guessed I'd have to go home and turn them away at the door or... *shudder* clean, so I lobbed the long-ball.
VC: "Look, if you show my apartment, you'd best be sure you're covered legally, because I WILL call a lawyer"
Z: "Well FINE then, we just won't show your apartment. You'll be gone at the end of the month ANYWAYS!"
Yeah... I think she just hung up on me. I'm just puzzled as to what the crap she's thinking... as if living anywhere besides in these crappy apartments is a punishment or something.
*So, when my slum-lord wears her makeup, she looks like a zombie. I know from various conversations with her that she can't be older than 40, but the amount that she's smoked makes her look 65 or so and she has stringy, dirty hair to accentuate the look. Thus, I refer to her as The Zombie.