Excused from Lease.

I guess it's like the saying, "The squeaky wheel gets the grease." Earlier this week I was emailing with my landlord about my continuing ant problem (or "infestation problem") as I like to call it for dramatic effect, and I suggested my rent be adjusted to disinclude the squarefootage in the "unlivable room". He replies telling me he is unwilling to adjust the rent; however, since I have had "more than my fair share of problems", he will let me out of the lease. I was in shock. I have heard such horror stories about people stuck in leases and paying $1,000+ just to get out, that this was certainly not something I expected. So now, three days later, I have secured a trusty, not-so-old apartment complex that I will readily move into in mid-September, not that I am counting the days (43). Yesterday I signed the paperwork and figured I could make it the short time until I was out of the treehouse without any real issues. Oh contraire...

Last night I got home around 8 o'clock and parked on the wider of the two cross-streets I live on since the other is taken over with bobcats, pipes, and other construction peraphanalia. Then as I'm leaving this morning, I find this:

To the left you will see my 6-week old car with the mirror knocked off. The red splotch is not a tomatoe or paintball as I have since been asked, it's blood... something I discovered after putting my thumb smack in the middle of it. So now, 2.5 hours later, I have finished my police report which was elavated from a "hit-and-run" to "criminal activity" since Officer Whoeveryouwere found five other cars along the street with similar damage. As he was writing down the info (still working under the hit-and-run classification), I pointed out that there are speckles of red (i.e. blood) all along the asphalt leading up to the car. He checked for himself and told me [Andy Griffith surprised voice] "well you're absolutely right!" And as I told the po, lucky for him I watch a lot of CSI.

So anyway, I am now blogging from the car place waiting not so much for my new mirror, but for the 43rd day to come. 

T.G.I.F. 

P.S. - And just for Pollyanna, I am grateful for my landlord for his willingness to let me out of the lease; for my accross-the-street-neigbor who drove around the neighborhood to find the other damaged cars and secured my mirror so it wouldn't scratch my car; for my boss and his understanding of my absence; and for my parents... well for too much to recount. :)

Bachelor Pad.

For those of you who don't know, I am a shameless fan of the Bachelor and Bachelorette series (minus the most recent season with Ashley due to her combination of incessant squealing and fidgeting). Yes, I know that the show is most likely scripted and that the chances of the couple lasting are about one in fifteen, and I do believe that it has the propensity to give malleable young girls skewed views on "reality" (since most first dates don't involve private concerts or skydiving), but somehow I get sucked in season after season to watch the trains derail. And I hesitate to admit this, but I once even entertained the idea of an Oklahoma City casting call (under heavy pressure from my old LTB roommate), but discovered that my employment precluded me from doing so - a good snap back to actual reality. Nevertheless, I have compiled my top 10 observations for those of you who may have missed the 3-hour season premier. (Oh and enjoy, because this list is the closest thing to a recipe you will ever see on this blog, unless maybe it involves a shaker and some form of sugary rim!)

1. Casey is still talking about his heart and unable to form complete sentences. 
2. Vienna still has creepy eyes, now coupled with the worst haircut I have ever seen on national TV. 
3. Gia, you continue to set the bar for class on this show. Why do you keep coming back?
4. Erica is still sporting a tiara, despite the fact she is from a suburb of Houston, Texas.
5. How come they couldn't get Brad Womack on here? It's not like he has any pride left.
6. I still don't get why everyone refers to the wrestler as "rated R". It's weird.
7. Michelle "Money" (I question that being her actual name) appears to have toned it down.
8. I have a real hard time believing any of these people go on this show "for their child's sake" (i.e. Ella). At some point, do they not wonder if it will do more harm than good?
9. Jake, kudos to you. Your performance tonight reinstated you as the Bachelor tool of all time. 
10. And seriously... where is Craig R.?

That's all for tonight. Now onto Words with Friends. 

Laundry.

This morning I finished the laundry that I started last night. In order for this to make sense, I need to give some background on the setup of this lovely residence of mine and its community "laundry room". I live in the apartment above not only the two-car garage (occupied by two separate residents), but above a small storage-looking space that has been converted into a 1980's laundry room. (The back wall appears to be a wall but actually opens up like a horror movie so that if anyone needs to walk around under my house, they are free to do so... something I learned post-lease-signing.) So last night I started my laundry and finished everything with the exception of emptying the last load of whites from the dryer.


Here is a side note: I would have walked downstairs last night to empty the dryer; however, the "laundry room" is located very close to the side of my house that was recently reconverted into an outhouse when an unseen stranger went to the restroom (no. 2) all down the side of it and left his tighty, not-so-whities on the ground next to the three trash cans I empty on a weekly basis. At the time my neighbor, Carly, told me I should be thankful of her hosing down the side of the house, yet she left these soiled drawers on the ground for me to dispose of and followed it up with, "I'm sure you don't know anyone who would do that to you... do you??" No. Pardon my french, but I have no friends who would find it comical to shit down the side of my house and leave their disgusting underwear for me to clean up.


So anyway, this morning I'm walking downstairs, laundry basket in tow, at the exact time that Carly is getting in her car - with fly of jorts unzipped. She stops and says, "Oh I folded your white jeans for you! I love doing that stuff!" 


"Awww!!" I initially think to myself at how nice that is of her to go out of her way and do that for me. And I'll admit I even had a slight tinge of doubt about the conclusions I've come to regarding her sanity. So I go to the laundry area and my jeans are folded on a counter; the rest of my whites are still in the dryer; and nothing is in the washing machine... leading me to the question at hand: why is this woman going through my items in the dryer and randomly selecting what she wants to fold when she clearly has no items to put in there to begin with? This gesture just went from kind to creepy.


Paranoid or pre-cautious?