Warning: If you're looking for Shiny Happy Lily, try another post. I'm possessed by the spirit of Florence this week. I'm sick, tired and grumpy, and I'm in no mood to laugh at absurdity. I can't walk and chew gum at the same time, but I can bitch and slog simultaneously.
I just moved into a new space this week. Won't call it a place yet.
Shall I give you a list of the pros and cons?
Pros:
1.)I have a walk-in closet. I have dreamed of a walk-in closet. I have sold my soul and quite possibly my sanity for this walk-in closet.
2.)Location: South F Street in Arcata. 5 blocks to the hotel, a mile to the church. Good opportunity for sun and exercise, and I can save on gas, too.
3.)Roommates: I need 'em. The rent is lower, and roommates will force me to socialize. Sometimes I'm in danger of becoming too isolated. And these roommates are decent people - willing to give you the shirt off their back or their last bowl of ice cream.
Cons:
1. Location: South F Street between Samoa Blvd and the Ambulance depot. More potholes per foot than the rest of Arcata combined. Four blocks to the bars, the hotel, and a mile to the church, so I'm morally obligated to leave the car at home and walk to work. Oh wait -- humboldt, redwood trees, temperate rainforest ... rain. And I'm supposed to be on the wagon.
2. Roommates: A female Boomhauer, a pregnant chick who believes cigarettes are bad for you but pot is healthy, and a BobMarley wannabe. The pregnant chick wants to bring in a 2nd pregnant chick and a bunkbed. Two random guys are always underfoot -- boyfriend, surrogate brother, both, nobody seems to be sure.
3. One bathroom. Four residents. Two semi-permanent guests. You do the math.
4. I have seen this staircase in my nightmares.
5. My attic comes equipped with an emergency hatch escape ladder and two small windows. There is no way my curvy ass will fit through those windows. Doesn't matter. I'm living in an attic of a house built back in the '50s. In the event of fire odds are good that I will perish from smoke inhallation, carbon monoxide poisoning, or a rare but deadly mix of asbestos and lead-based paint chips.
6. There is no carpet. There are, however, carpet tacks everywhere. I have to wear house-shoes or risk tetanus. I HATE house shoes. (There will be carpet eventually. Why are we moved in before the new carpet?)
7. My roommates poke fun at my shoes and purses. Ordinarily, them's fighting words but this is not new. Poor shoe choices are endemnic to Humboldt County. Have I ever told you about the time I was lambasted for wearing my strappy black sandals to a history class?
8. There is no door between my stairwell and the rest of the house. There will be. Eventually. But at the moment, voices and various smoke fumes are carried upstairs. Pregnant daughter can not string together three words without inserting "fuck".
9. Someone is using my hair products. I am a reasonable roommate. I will share my furniture, tv, nail polish, knives, candals, make up, perfume, cats, books, dishes, pots and pans, food, clothing, and for a special few purses and shoes. But have you seen my hair? I need all the help I can get. My hair products. MINE.
Okay, I'm done with my wrant. The house needs work. The house will be very nice once it's cleaned up. I don't even care about the lack of carpet or horrible paint. But I'm a solitary individual. I need a door to close behind me.
I just moved into a new space this week. Won't call it a place yet.
Shall I give you a list of the pros and cons?
Pros:
1.)I have a walk-in closet. I have dreamed of a walk-in closet. I have sold my soul and quite possibly my sanity for this walk-in closet.
2.)Location: South F Street in Arcata. 5 blocks to the hotel, a mile to the church. Good opportunity for sun and exercise, and I can save on gas, too.
3.)Roommates: I need 'em. The rent is lower, and roommates will force me to socialize. Sometimes I'm in danger of becoming too isolated. And these roommates are decent people - willing to give you the shirt off their back or their last bowl of ice cream.
Cons:
1. Location: South F Street between Samoa Blvd and the Ambulance depot. More potholes per foot than the rest of Arcata combined. Four blocks to the bars, the hotel, and a mile to the church, so I'm morally obligated to leave the car at home and walk to work. Oh wait -- humboldt, redwood trees, temperate rainforest ... rain. And I'm supposed to be on the wagon.
2. Roommates: A female Boomhauer, a pregnant chick who believes cigarettes are bad for you but pot is healthy, and a BobMarley wannabe. The pregnant chick wants to bring in a 2nd pregnant chick and a bunkbed. Two random guys are always underfoot -- boyfriend, surrogate brother, both, nobody seems to be sure.
3. One bathroom. Four residents. Two semi-permanent guests. You do the math.
4. I have seen this staircase in my nightmares.
5. My attic comes equipped with an emergency hatch escape ladder and two small windows. There is no way my curvy ass will fit through those windows. Doesn't matter. I'm living in an attic of a house built back in the '50s. In the event of fire odds are good that I will perish from smoke inhallation, carbon monoxide poisoning, or a rare but deadly mix of asbestos and lead-based paint chips.
6. There is no carpet. There are, however, carpet tacks everywhere. I have to wear house-shoes or risk tetanus. I HATE house shoes. (There will be carpet eventually. Why are we moved in before the new carpet?)
7. My roommates poke fun at my shoes and purses. Ordinarily, them's fighting words but this is not new. Poor shoe choices are endemnic to Humboldt County. Have I ever told you about the time I was lambasted for wearing my strappy black sandals to a history class?
8. There is no door between my stairwell and the rest of the house. There will be. Eventually. But at the moment, voices and various smoke fumes are carried upstairs. Pregnant daughter can not string together three words without inserting "fuck".
9. Someone is using my hair products. I am a reasonable roommate. I will share my furniture, tv, nail polish, knives, candals, make up, perfume, cats, books, dishes, pots and pans, food, clothing, and for a special few purses and shoes. But have you seen my hair? I need all the help I can get. My hair products. MINE.
Okay, I'm done with my wrant. The house needs work. The house will be very nice once it's cleaned up. I don't even care about the lack of carpet or horrible paint. But I'm a solitary individual. I need a door to close behind me.
No comments:
Post a Comment