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winnars and losers
After a truly awesome weekend and the now-routine-and-even-more-boring three-day drive, we are back in Tampa where there is paperwork to do and dogs to be cuddled. I need to deal with immigration and run all the numbers on what is the best way to get people+car+dogs+stuff up here. We keep wavering over ditching some/all of the furniture - it's all stuff we acquired for free or very little, but even if we do dispose of it we still have too much other crap (boxes of stuff, appliances, futon mattress etc) to fit in a trailer rather than a truck, and I don't know if replacing it would be any less expensive than transporting it.
While we were still up there we drove past our new home a few times, waved our arms around all happylike and wandered around the back talking about where to put fake doggy turf, etc. I am really optimistic about living there at this point, but at the same time, there's this odd feeling that rather than choosing it like rational flathunters, we were herded there by the total lack of other options. During this whole elongated attempt at moving we've found only three places that were even willing to entertain the idea of renting to people who had a big dog and a small dog; the other two were overpriced and tiny, and this one seems pretty great inside but it's not like we had any other reasonable options here?
But. I talked to someone else who was viewing this place at the same time we were; M was talking to the broker while she and I were exploring its further corners. I asked my fellow flathunter if she'd been having as much bullshit from failbrokers as we had; yes, yes she had. She is losing her current home at the end of the month (didn't say why) and needs to find a new place for herself, two children and three dogs, two of which are miniature pitbulls. She thought this place might be okay, but needed to see if Section 8 would approve it.
Pitbulls scream 'bad life decision' especially when you're renting (D.M. has one), and the ad for this place had said of pets 'No pits or rotties' (screw you, rottweilers are delightful), and that's pretty much the most liberal pet policy I saw the whole time we were looking, hence why I gave it a shot - but yes, a lot of people in Boston have fewer options than me and do not possess the totally unearned means to write mortifyingly large cheques on the spot. musical fucking chairs and it is not okay.
I had to call on D.M. yesterday for paperwork reasons; Ms Cheerful was also there, and I snagged a hug, but unlike her employer she was actually working so we didn't get to talk all that much. So I got talked at by D.M. for a while; she's quit smoking and so has Mr Q (my congratulations were genuine; forty-ish years of heavy smoking and then eight weeks on electric cigs, and her skin already looked a lot better - one may as well sate her need for attention in ways that encourage her good health); she likes her new home; she gave away one of her two dogs (not the pitbull) for unspecified reasons. There was a holstered handgun lying on top of her desk. I didn't draw any attention to it, as it was clearly too freaking bizarre.
While we were still up there we drove past our new home a few times, waved our arms around all happylike and wandered around the back talking about where to put fake doggy turf, etc. I am really optimistic about living there at this point, but at the same time, there's this odd feeling that rather than choosing it like rational flathunters, we were herded there by the total lack of other options. During this whole elongated attempt at moving we've found only three places that were even willing to entertain the idea of renting to people who had a big dog and a small dog; the other two were overpriced and tiny, and this one seems pretty great inside but it's not like we had any other reasonable options here?
But. I talked to someone else who was viewing this place at the same time we were; M was talking to the broker while she and I were exploring its further corners. I asked my fellow flathunter if she'd been having as much bullshit from failbrokers as we had; yes, yes she had. She is losing her current home at the end of the month (didn't say why) and needs to find a new place for herself, two children and three dogs, two of which are miniature pitbulls. She thought this place might be okay, but needed to see if Section 8 would approve it.
Pitbulls scream 'bad life decision' especially when you're renting (D.M. has one), and the ad for this place had said of pets 'No pits or rotties' (screw you, rottweilers are delightful), and that's pretty much the most liberal pet policy I saw the whole time we were looking, hence why I gave it a shot - but yes, a lot of people in Boston have fewer options than me and do not possess the totally unearned means to write mortifyingly large cheques on the spot. musical fucking chairs and it is not okay.
I had to call on D.M. yesterday for paperwork reasons; Ms Cheerful was also there, and I snagged a hug, but unlike her employer she was actually working so we didn't get to talk all that much. So I got talked at by D.M. for a while; she's quit smoking and so has Mr Q (my congratulations were genuine; forty-ish years of heavy smoking and then eight weeks on electric cigs, and her skin already looked a lot better - one may as well sate her need for attention in ways that encourage her good health); she likes her new home; she gave away one of her two dogs (not the pitbull) for unspecified reasons. There was a holstered handgun lying on top of her desk. I didn't draw any attention to it, as it was clearly too freaking bizarre.
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I really hate the irrational fear and prejudice people have against certain dog breeds--I don't have any experience with rotties, but pitties are just as adorable, sweet and playful as any other big breed, and jesus fuck, if a goddamn golden retriever was treated the same way some people treat their pitt bulls, it would be just as aggressive. Sigh.
Moving is a pain in the ass, dealing with the guvmint is a pain in the ass, so good luck with everything?
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agh, are you going to have to move soon? That sucks.
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We talked about getting roommates in Boston but M was set against it, and really, I am sure I'll be better off not living with strangers too; I could have coped, because I'm pretty well-trained at retreating into my own head when I want to. Our place up there is an absolute bargain by Boston standards but it's still not much less than twice what our Kennesaw basement flat cost us. Oh dear god do I hope I land a decent job in the next couple of years. (well hey, I have to do at least a little better, because one of my GA jobs paid me less than the MA minimum wage. ¬¬)
I always heard Chick FilA were a decent employer apart from the jesus thing? re. computers, I am in love with my Toshiba Mini and I think they start at $250 (although the base model has too little RAM to function, so the 2gig upgrade is mandatory, but that only cost me an extra $20.) It's got no disc drive, but I've never minded that.
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I guess Chick fil A isn't bad as far as fast food places go, but soul crushing nonetheless. That was a bad time in general, and not just because of the job, though; I am irrationally prejudiced (I had several panic attacks there).
I KEEP WAFFLING ABOUT WHAT I WANT MORE, COMPUTER OR VACUUM. If only more places had wood or laminate flooring. So much easier to sweep cat hair than to vacuum it; I am seriously unsettled thinking about how much cat hair must be in the carpet since my vacuum broke.
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ugh yes, our last place had carpet all over and omg, by the time we left there was enough Grendel stuck to the floor to make a whole new Grendel. The new one has some hardwood and some carpet so should be easier to handle. Our vacuum isn't that great though. :/
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I know that on a lot of levels the germ thing is totally irrational but omg, they're like little bugs and I am a great big sissy fem girl about bugs omg omg. The thought of anything being on me or in me without me knowing is absolutely horrifying. And then bugs have germs!!1! >.<
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i. hate. bugs, so I feel for you there. Why is the south full of ticks and roaches and giant spiders :(
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And oh god, the whole concept that a man must not let a woman carry anything heavy evar neads to die. I run into this constantly everywhere I work, and seriously, men, if I need your help I'm not too proud or stupid to ask for it. The part on every job application that asks if you are capable of lifting at least fifty pounds? Yeah, wasn't lying just to get the job.
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OMG THAT. I mean, I used to lug 50lb bags of coal upstairs when I was a kid, so wtf.
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ME, LATE AT NIGHT, IN BED, A BIG ASS ROACH OMG OMG OMFG COMES FLYING AT MY FACE . AND IT ACTUALLY DID HIT MY FACE AS MY ASS SCRAMBLED OUT OF BED, AND I WAS SO HORRIFIED I COULDN'T EVEN SCREAM, JUST BEAT AT MY FACE, THE BED, ANYTHING TO KILL IT. WHICH I DID. AND SMEARED ROACH GUTS WERE ON MY SHEETS. :(
AND THAT IS ONLY ONE OF TWO ROACH-IN-BED STORIES. :(((((((
ODDLY ENOUGH, TICKS, WHILE GROSS, DO NOT BOTHER ME NEARLY AS MUCH, PERHAPS BECAUSE THEY'RE JUST SUCH A COMMON THING HERE. IDK. AND I HAVE ACTUALLY FOUND ONE IN MY HAIR BEFORE, ALTHOUGH IT HADN'T YET BIT ME. I JUST WENT EWW AND SQUISHED IT.