Saturday, August 16, 2003
Right now.
At this very second.
I am flogging myself for deciding not to just move back into the graduate apartments. All I really need is just a room. With a bed, a desk, a closet, and a dresser. This apartment thing is giving me serious headaches and is just pissing me off in all sorts of new ways I didn't think was possible.
Word of advice.
Never decide to sign a new lease with a roomie you're just "okay" friends with. Especially if they're of the opposite sex. No matter how flamingly harmless they are. Right now, I'd give anything to be living in an apartment with 5 Rabbits and Wabbits going at it like... well, rabbits. Because the StupidFuckingThisIsSuchABadIdea-I'mGoingToLiveToRegretInLessThanADay-NoGoodRoomie is making me dip in reserves of patience that I really don't have. I'm practically borrowing patience from the people around me.
When does he finally call me back? Two minutes ago. AFTER I called him this morning to check on him again. Did he get the keys? "Heh. No. The trains were late and I didn't get there until after 5." Excuse me... the trains in Jersey were running. Why would it take you an ENTIRE FUCKING DAY to get your ass 1/3 of the way through Jersey?? JERSEY!! It only takes 3-4 hours tops to drive through the whole thing. Then he says he'll go pick them up today and pay the rent for this month since I footed the security deposit -- the ENTIRE security deposit. Oh, but first he needs to get his car checked out, and then might have to find someone to drive his ass there. And, by the way, do I have the landlady's number because he lost that, too. The jackass then hangs up on me, and when he calls back, has the gall to ask me why I hung up on him. Punkass. Every time his phone conks out, it's always my fault. Bastard. THEN he has the nerve to ask me what I'm going to do. Okay.... it wasn't the fact that he asked the question. It was the WAY he asked the question. In a really accusatory tone, as if he's been doing all the fucking work to get this apartment deal done, and like I haven't done crap work to help.
Excuse me?
Excuse me while I go set something or someone alive on fire.
Moving into an apartment is supposed to be fun and exciting. Instead, I feel like someone just told me to get my ass down into the NYC sewer system and clean it until it sparkles. With my tongue.
After I tell him I'll probably go and get MY key and start moving shit in, he drops a "oh, well, if I don't make it today, you'll have to pick up my key, too."
Oh, really? And I suppose I'll just have to foot this month's rent, too, while I'm at it. And all the common area furniture, not to mention the kitchen stuff.
"What are you going to do?" I'll tell you what I'm going to do. If this fucking prick defaults on me, no law, lawyer, judge, or god in heaven will convict me of what I'll do to him. And no amount of money or number of bodyguards will protect him from me. I'm sorry, but an apartment is a big deal. A big financial deal. With lots of responsibilities and accountability, and if he's going to change on me and start behaving irresponsibly.... Well, he better redeem himself by doing something to amuse me or suprise me, otherwise I'm going to be in a permanent funk for the rest of the year. Alcoholism doesn't sound so bad right now.
People wonder how I can be so anti-social.
Dammit. I need more female friends around here. And I probably need to move. Far far away.
|| posted by Pooh at 11:29 AM ... ||