So....Tyson still lives. When it came right down to it, the boy just couldn't do it. We got the name of another behaviorist, and the boy will see if this guy has any new tricks up his sleeve that we can try with Tyson.
Thanks so much for all of your suggestions and commiserations. Interestingly, the vet that we go to doesn't much like to prescribe medication for behavioral issues (and this is very in line with our point of view as well) but he seemed to like the suggestion given by the vet tech for a medicine that can be administered to Tyson before any scheduled changes to the normal routine. (Like, say, a dinner date, or weekend at the parent's house...) I saw this suggestion from commenters and I was impressed. I had never even considered such an idea. That's why I'm glad we had people who weren't so close to the situation who could think outside the box, per se.
I also saw suggestions to re-home Tyson, and if you don't know Tyson personally, I can completely understand that this would be the first thought to pop into your head. I am a strong proponent of rehoming your animal before giving them up to a shelter or taking the "easy" way out. However, I also got this suggestion from the behaviorist that we used to work with, and I found it completely irresponsible. She knows Tyson and his issues intimately.
Tyson has severe separation anxiety and the boy is his one and only (to put it lightly.) It's not as though the boy and I are novices with pit bulls, or with dealing with Tyson's issues. I just can't imagine how guilty I would feel dropping this dog and all of his issues on someone new, even if they say they're ready to handle it - it will be SO MUCH worse in the beginning because Tyson will not only be in an entirely new situation, but he will also not be with the boy. I thought about this one for a long long time, and the list of criteria for a potential new owner for Tyson would have to be:
Young (Tyson is STRONG and needs exercise)
Stay at home (or work from home)
Experience with pit bulls
Willing to exercise Tyson regularly (or have a lot of land to let him roam on walks)
Willing to take on the expense of a dog who may require medication his entire life
Have no other dogs (unless very very submissive.)
Have no cats
Most people who have the experience to work with Tyson are regulars in rescue or animal behavior. Most of them don't only have one animal.... (I guess I'm a case in point...) I just feel like the boy really IS Tyson's last chance.
(Tyson was actually slated to be put down by the rescue I work for because he couldn't be fostered (due to the crating/dominance issue) but I opened my big mouth and said, "Oh! My boyfriend lives in a house and he could probably foster him!" So basically, this is all my fault. I think that what got to me back then was the fact that even though Tyson was big, goofy, and couldn't be crated, his tail was bleeding from the tip when we got him. Why? Because even though he had been in a crate at the shelter and when he was being transported to us, his damn tail never stopped wagging, and he banged it up so much it was bleeding. I need to get over this soft-hearted thing. It only gets me into trouble.)
Given that difficult and traumatic decision yesterday and the fact that I've been trying to be there for the boy as much as possible, I am SO ready for the weekend. Not that it will be relaxing. My parents are coming into town, and my dad almost made me cry when he offered to help me clean out my spider and large insect (seriously - you have no idea. I originally thought this one brown thing was a mouse...nope - large brown bug. I almost fainted. The only thing that kept me holding on to consciousness was the fact that if I fainted, I would be on the ground where all the spiders and insects were living. ewwwww) infested garage so that I can park my car in it. Apparently the garage hasn't been used for years. Stupid Curvy. (My dad didn't even laugh when I told him I didn't know whether or not the electricity in the garage worked because the socket for the lighbulb was well inside the garage and beyond where the sunlight entered when I opened the door, so there was no way in HELL I was going in there to test it out. He just understood that I can handle a lot, but bugs just aren't my forte... He said we'll figure it out when he gets here (which I translate to mean that he'll handle it and I'll help as much as I can...) Why oh why can't I meet a guy like my dad??) I set off a bug bomb last night, but I'm afraid to open the door and see what happened. The boy asked me what I was afraid of. Well, basically, I'm (irrationally, I know) afraid that the bug bomb had no effect, and that it just made the spiders and large unidentified insects angry...so if I open the door, well, they'll attack me.
Shut it. You all have phobias too.
So, facing the prospect of large bugs, and certain lawn care (my dad is bringing me an edger. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't know what that was when he originally mentioned it. I planned to mow. And now apparently I have to edge. Great. Just one more thing to keep in the garage.) this weekend doesn't seem all that appealing, though it will be fabulous to see my folks. Today started off quietly, and I was just pushing through a Friday at work, when I heard this song on the radio:
It makes me so happy! I swear I've had it on repeat for the last hour. Added to that, a friend sent me a random email basically saying that they were proud of me for the cohabitation hiatus, and he knows how difficult that must have been for me, but I did the right thing.
That, my friends, is why I ALWAYS give compliments when I think of them. You never know when a little word of kindness that crosses your mind and is expressed can make someone else's day.
So with Tyson alive and kicking, and facing certain trauma from the garage this weekend, I'm in a remarkably good mood! I'm even happy enough to drop $139.99 on this window a/c unit and then try to install it myself. Wish me luck! (I'm not even going to read the email response from the old behaviorist after I called her suggestion irresponsible. It will just mess up my chi. :-)
Friday, June 27, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tough Times
An issue has arisen in the house of boy.
A friend of his got married this past weekend, and he was a groomsman in the wedding. This meant he was out late on Friday night with the rehearsal dinner/bachelor party and then gone most of the day Saturday for the wedding.
This, of course, left his dog alone for quite a while in a new place.
The boy had been making headway in the crate training. After all, he didn't want the carpet in the new place to end up like it did in the last place. For short periods of time, Tyson had been left in the crate with some success.
But the boy got up late after the bachelor party, walked Tyson, and then started getting ready for the wedding. This was obviously a different routine that what Tyson had become accustomed to. (during the cohabitation experiment, if the routine was altered, Tyson would begin crying and digging at the door immediately....sometimes waking Emily up at 6:00am and almost losing his life in an unpleasant manner.) When the boy was leaving for the wedding, he noticed that Tyson already seemed anxious since his normal routine had been altered. When he left, Tyson began digging at the carpet immediately.
The boy returned to the apartment, and put Tyson into his velociraptor crate. (Go on. Click on the link. Take a refresher look at the crate in all of its glory. I'll wait.)
I would show you a picture of what the crate looks like now (not to mention what Tyson looks like now) but it's seriously horrifying to see. The upper right hand corner of the door of the crate is bent back, and the top lock is broken off. (Keep in mind that this is aluminum sheet metal!) Tyson has broken off his last remaining canine tooth and broken or split four nails from digging in the metal crate. His face is disfigured from the swelling that resulted from pushing his head against the sheet metal door to bend it back in an effort to escape from the crate. There are several scratches around his face from the metal door.
He is still limping today and has a visit with the vet tomorrow to see if he needs further medical attention.
I would normally joke about the craziness of the dog...but now I feel horrible for just assuming that the dog was being stubborn and not realizing that he really is mentally unstable. He hurt himself (and badly) trying to get out of the crate that he's learned to tolerate in small doses - simply because something misfires in his head and tells him that if he's left in the crate, something horrible will happen.
So the boy faces a horrible choice. Life his life completely around the schedule of a mentally unbalanced dog, or put his buddy to rest.
Me? I'm left angry at the person who did this to Tyson. The person who did something so horrible to Tyson that it left him scarred before the boy or I ever met him. I feel guilt that there's nothing more I can do to help him.
On the one hand, Tyson is a great dog when he's not separated from the boy for long periods of time. On the other hand, no one's life is so structured that there won't be sometimes when the dogs will only get a quick walk between outings or commitments. Should the boy have to live his life knowing that he can't be away from his dog for more than eight hours at a time?
One the one hand, Tyson isn't at all aggressive. On the other hand, he can't live with another alpha dog because, while he won't start anything, if another dog tries to exert dominance on Tyson...well, Tyson doesn't let them.
On the one hand, Tyson doesn't chew or destroy anything when left to his own devices in the apartment and on a set schedule. On the other hand, any variation to the schedule and he can be destructive - to both property and himself.
On the one hand, Tyson could be medicated. On the other hand, what will that do to his quality of life? Maybe there isn't a medication that will work. The first one that we tried had no effect.
It's a very difficult situation, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. Between our cohabitation hiatus, and this situation with Tyson, the boy feels understandably depressed. I'm doing the best I can to be there, but I'm at a loss as to what to do. There is no advice I can give - the boy has to do what he feels he needs to do. There is no comfort I can give if he has to give up his buddy. I can only take him to my vet and hold his hand. (and offer to let him cuddle with Blue and Casey to see if they can do something I can't.)
Just keep him in your thoughts, okay? And any advice you can give him (or me) would be much appreciated.
A friend of his got married this past weekend, and he was a groomsman in the wedding. This meant he was out late on Friday night with the rehearsal dinner/bachelor party and then gone most of the day Saturday for the wedding.
This, of course, left his dog alone for quite a while in a new place.
The boy had been making headway in the crate training. After all, he didn't want the carpet in the new place to end up like it did in the last place. For short periods of time, Tyson had been left in the crate with some success.
But the boy got up late after the bachelor party, walked Tyson, and then started getting ready for the wedding. This was obviously a different routine that what Tyson had become accustomed to. (during the cohabitation experiment, if the routine was altered, Tyson would begin crying and digging at the door immediately....sometimes waking Emily up at 6:00am and almost losing his life in an unpleasant manner.) When the boy was leaving for the wedding, he noticed that Tyson already seemed anxious since his normal routine had been altered. When he left, Tyson began digging at the carpet immediately.
The boy returned to the apartment, and put Tyson into his velociraptor crate. (Go on. Click on the link. Take a refresher look at the crate in all of its glory. I'll wait.)
I would show you a picture of what the crate looks like now (not to mention what Tyson looks like now) but it's seriously horrifying to see. The upper right hand corner of the door of the crate is bent back, and the top lock is broken off. (Keep in mind that this is aluminum sheet metal!) Tyson has broken off his last remaining canine tooth and broken or split four nails from digging in the metal crate. His face is disfigured from the swelling that resulted from pushing his head against the sheet metal door to bend it back in an effort to escape from the crate. There are several scratches around his face from the metal door.
He is still limping today and has a visit with the vet tomorrow to see if he needs further medical attention.
I would normally joke about the craziness of the dog...but now I feel horrible for just assuming that the dog was being stubborn and not realizing that he really is mentally unstable. He hurt himself (and badly) trying to get out of the crate that he's learned to tolerate in small doses - simply because something misfires in his head and tells him that if he's left in the crate, something horrible will happen.
So the boy faces a horrible choice. Life his life completely around the schedule of a mentally unbalanced dog, or put his buddy to rest.
Me? I'm left angry at the person who did this to Tyson. The person who did something so horrible to Tyson that it left him scarred before the boy or I ever met him. I feel guilt that there's nothing more I can do to help him.
On the one hand, Tyson is a great dog when he's not separated from the boy for long periods of time. On the other hand, no one's life is so structured that there won't be sometimes when the dogs will only get a quick walk between outings or commitments. Should the boy have to live his life knowing that he can't be away from his dog for more than eight hours at a time?
One the one hand, Tyson isn't at all aggressive. On the other hand, he can't live with another alpha dog because, while he won't start anything, if another dog tries to exert dominance on Tyson...well, Tyson doesn't let them.
On the one hand, Tyson doesn't chew or destroy anything when left to his own devices in the apartment and on a set schedule. On the other hand, any variation to the schedule and he can be destructive - to both property and himself.
On the one hand, Tyson could be medicated. On the other hand, what will that do to his quality of life? Maybe there isn't a medication that will work. The first one that we tried had no effect.
It's a very difficult situation, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. Between our cohabitation hiatus, and this situation with Tyson, the boy feels understandably depressed. I'm doing the best I can to be there, but I'm at a loss as to what to do. There is no advice I can give - the boy has to do what he feels he needs to do. There is no comfort I can give if he has to give up his buddy. I can only take him to my vet and hold his hand. (and offer to let him cuddle with Blue and Casey to see if they can do something I can't.)
Just keep him in your thoughts, okay? And any advice you can give him (or me) would be much appreciated.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Work "Appropriate" Conversation
"Man. My legs are tired, but they don't hurt. Do you know what DOES hurt? My ass. Those bike seats are NOT comfortable."
"That's not the stock seat on the bike either. The previous owner had one installed with springs in the back."
"Really? And it's super surprising to me that it's my butt that hurts. I mean, it's not like I don't have plenty of cushioning back there. I mean, I got on the bike this morning, and I really thought I would have to give up simply because my butt hurt."
"My butt hurts after riding a bike too. If I haven't ridden in a while. It goes away."
"It goes away?"
"Well, you get used to it."
"Get used to it?"
"Yeah. It's like sex."
"Okay... Wait, what?!"
"You know, if you haven't had sex in a while?"
"Um, no. I don't know.... You must be doing it wrong."
"Well, it depends on the duration."
"Um...I still think you're doing it wrong. Maybe you need a manual."
"That's not the stock seat on the bike either. The previous owner had one installed with springs in the back."
"Really? And it's super surprising to me that it's my butt that hurts. I mean, it's not like I don't have plenty of cushioning back there. I mean, I got on the bike this morning, and I really thought I would have to give up simply because my butt hurt."
"My butt hurts after riding a bike too. If I haven't ridden in a while. It goes away."
"It goes away?"
"Well, you get used to it."
"Get used to it?"
"Yeah. It's like sex."
"Okay... Wait, what?!"
"You know, if you haven't had sex in a while?"
"Um, no. I don't know.... You must be doing it wrong."
"Well, it depends on the duration."
"Um...I still think you're doing it wrong. Maybe you need a manual."
Wow, am I not smart.
So, I rode my bike to work yesterday. I was going to post a triumphant post in the morning when I was filled with a sense of accomplishment and pride....but something told me to wait.
It's a good thing I did. Around 2:30pm, the LAST thing I wanted to do was ride that damn bike home. The bike was suddenly the bane of my existance. I started scheming find a way (any way) to get home that didn't involve my leg power. Pride won out (can't let my friends be right!!) and I rode my bike home. It actually gave me MORE energy when I got home to walk the dogs... That lasted until bedtime when I crashed (HARD) and actually had the best night sleep since I moved into the new place.
Then today, it what may be the dumbest move in Emily history, I went and rode the bike to work again. For the second day in a row. When I was already exhausted yesterday after my bike riding experience. Seriously. How dumb am I?
I mean, it's definitely saving me money - I don't go out for lunch, I'm not using gas... I'm reducing my carbon footprint... But it's only 8:45am and I'm already hating that stupid bike. Any suggestions on an alternative means to get home?? (But then that pride thing kicks in... why oh why do I put myself in these situations?) Stupid bike. Stupid Emily. Stupid idea.
PS. I will post pictures of my ride to and from work soon. There are so many things I need to discuss - not the least of which are these big blue obstacles that serve no purpose, and the monster hill from hell.
It's a good thing I did. Around 2:30pm, the LAST thing I wanted to do was ride that damn bike home. The bike was suddenly the bane of my existance. I started scheming find a way (any way) to get home that didn't involve my leg power. Pride won out (can't let my friends be right!!) and I rode my bike home. It actually gave me MORE energy when I got home to walk the dogs... That lasted until bedtime when I crashed (HARD) and actually had the best night sleep since I moved into the new place.
Then today, it what may be the dumbest move in Emily history, I went and rode the bike to work again. For the second day in a row. When I was already exhausted yesterday after my bike riding experience. Seriously. How dumb am I?
I mean, it's definitely saving me money - I don't go out for lunch, I'm not using gas... I'm reducing my carbon footprint... But it's only 8:45am and I'm already hating that stupid bike. Any suggestions on an alternative means to get home?? (But then that pride thing kicks in... why oh why do I put myself in these situations?) Stupid bike. Stupid Emily. Stupid idea.
PS. I will post pictures of my ride to and from work soon. There are so many things I need to discuss - not the least of which are these big blue obstacles that serve no purpose, and the monster hill from hell.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Laying Down the Law
So, I won't lie. After my brush with House #1, I made an effort to check out the crime rates in any new neighborhood I was considering. Easier said that done. Eventually, I found this. (Or rather, zlionsfan found this.)
After I had moved in.
Still, that's neither here nor there. The crime rate for my neighborhood is actually much lower than the average for Marion County as a whole, so that's good, right? It wasn't until on a walk with zlionsfan on the 17th, when he mentioned the police patrols, that I actually took notice that, yes, I had actually seen quite a few police cars patrolling my neighborhood. In fact, if I thought back (and keep in mind, I've only had the dogs in the house since the 15th, so we've only been walking the neighborhood since then) I had seen at least one police car (unmarked or marked) on each walk.
I've been thinking about that ever since, and I continue to see the patrols. So, is this a good thing, or a bad thing?
Zlionsfan mentioned that police patrol neighborhoods that USED to be higher crime areas. The reason why the crime stats drop, of course, is the perceived police presence. Even though I was told over and over as a freshman in collge that I should NOT venture out into the neighborhoods surrounding Butler (the University is safe, but the neighborhoods surrounding were not guaranteed to be safe for students... blah blah blah) I never really believed it. Besides, that was um....twelve years ago. (sob) And when I was a senior, I had friends who lived in those neighborhoods and emerged reasonably unscathed. University scare tactics to protect the trust fund babies was my final verdict. And the new crime stats? I believe them. I have never felt the slightest threat whether I'm walking my dogs early morning, early evening, or late at night.
So why the police patrols? Did something recently happen to warrent the increased attention? A search of recent crime in the area yields some property offenses, some traffic issues...nothing outstanding.
So then I thought, "Is it the University?"
That seems plausible, right? An affluent private university that wants to ensure that its campus, students, faculty and reputation remain intact would surely think that increased police patrols on and around campus are a good investment, no?
This morning I was about 100 feet away from my house and groggily walking Blue and Casey, when we saw a tan chow in the neighbor's yard. I initially thought it was the neighbor's dog, until I saw that it wasn't. My worst scenario was confirmed when I saw that the chow was not leashed, was not chained, and there was no owner in sight. At that point, I woke up pretty quickly.
I decided to just continue on my walk. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the chow head over to my front door to sniff. (New dog smell! New dog smell!!) I relaxed a bit, thinking he would just be happy staying over there, and walked a bit faster. At this point, a police car cruised slowly past.
The chow decided that it had enough of the smells, and wanted to see the real article. Damn. Casey immediately felt me tense up and began to growl. Blue, oblivious to everything, just seemed happy to meet a new potential playmate. I stood still with the dogs on either side of me and waited while the chow slowly approached. When it was on the opposite side of the street, the police cruiser (having seen the standoff in his rearview mirror) miraculously reappeared and turned on his siren for a short burst. The chow skittered away. I waved my thanks and continued walking. When we stopped at the corner, I noticed the police cruiser turning around, heading back to my house, and the police officer getting out to chase the chow away from my house entirely.
I think I fell in love with Mr. Police Officer a little bit.
I saw him again when he did a lap around Butler's campus and waved to him again. As he passed me, I noticed that he had a Butler University license plate. Mystery solved in my mind. University funding is helping with my safe existance.
But now? That doesn't really matter. This situation could have happened anywhere...even my old apartment. The difference is that there wouldn't have been anyone to chase the stray dog away at my old place. The reason is irrelevant. I'm glad the patrols are around and I'll wave every time I see one. Maybe they'll remember when I'm walking and keep an eye out for a single girl. I can't have too many friends like that, right?
After I had moved in.
Still, that's neither here nor there. The crime rate for my neighborhood is actually much lower than the average for Marion County as a whole, so that's good, right? It wasn't until on a walk with zlionsfan on the 17th, when he mentioned the police patrols, that I actually took notice that, yes, I had actually seen quite a few police cars patrolling my neighborhood. In fact, if I thought back (and keep in mind, I've only had the dogs in the house since the 15th, so we've only been walking the neighborhood since then) I had seen at least one police car (unmarked or marked) on each walk.
I've been thinking about that ever since, and I continue to see the patrols. So, is this a good thing, or a bad thing?
Zlionsfan mentioned that police patrol neighborhoods that USED to be higher crime areas. The reason why the crime stats drop, of course, is the perceived police presence. Even though I was told over and over as a freshman in collge that I should NOT venture out into the neighborhoods surrounding Butler (the University is safe, but the neighborhoods surrounding were not guaranteed to be safe for students... blah blah blah) I never really believed it. Besides, that was um....twelve years ago. (sob) And when I was a senior, I had friends who lived in those neighborhoods and emerged reasonably unscathed. University scare tactics to protect the trust fund babies was my final verdict. And the new crime stats? I believe them. I have never felt the slightest threat whether I'm walking my dogs early morning, early evening, or late at night.
So why the police patrols? Did something recently happen to warrent the increased attention? A search of recent crime in the area yields some property offenses, some traffic issues...nothing outstanding.
So then I thought, "Is it the University?"
That seems plausible, right? An affluent private university that wants to ensure that its campus, students, faculty and reputation remain intact would surely think that increased police patrols on and around campus are a good investment, no?
This morning I was about 100 feet away from my house and groggily walking Blue and Casey, when we saw a tan chow in the neighbor's yard. I initially thought it was the neighbor's dog, until I saw that it wasn't. My worst scenario was confirmed when I saw that the chow was not leashed, was not chained, and there was no owner in sight. At that point, I woke up pretty quickly.
I decided to just continue on my walk. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the chow head over to my front door to sniff. (New dog smell! New dog smell!!) I relaxed a bit, thinking he would just be happy staying over there, and walked a bit faster. At this point, a police car cruised slowly past.
The chow decided that it had enough of the smells, and wanted to see the real article. Damn. Casey immediately felt me tense up and began to growl. Blue, oblivious to everything, just seemed happy to meet a new potential playmate. I stood still with the dogs on either side of me and waited while the chow slowly approached. When it was on the opposite side of the street, the police cruiser (having seen the standoff in his rearview mirror) miraculously reappeared and turned on his siren for a short burst. The chow skittered away. I waved my thanks and continued walking. When we stopped at the corner, I noticed the police cruiser turning around, heading back to my house, and the police officer getting out to chase the chow away from my house entirely.
I think I fell in love with Mr. Police Officer a little bit.
I saw him again when he did a lap around Butler's campus and waved to him again. As he passed me, I noticed that he had a Butler University license plate. Mystery solved in my mind. University funding is helping with my safe existance.
But now? That doesn't really matter. This situation could have happened anywhere...even my old apartment. The difference is that there wouldn't have been anyone to chase the stray dog away at my old place. The reason is irrelevant. I'm glad the patrols are around and I'll wave every time I see one. Maybe they'll remember when I'm walking and keep an eye out for a single girl. I can't have too many friends like that, right?
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly
The Good:
Well, I'm in the new place. I've got some semblance of a routine going and I've actually cleared one couch off enough to sit on it. Last night, I even figured out that one of the "dead" switches turns an outlet on and off, so now I have a lamp that I can control from the front door. Oh! And the gas stove works....turns out it was just user error that kept me from making the Papa Murphy's pizza I bought for that first night.
Laney is a happy happy cat. I can't decide if it's the week long head start she had that makes her feel ownership over the place, or the subtraction of Tyson from her life...but she's a happy and outgoing and bossy cat. Last night, Blue was in my bedroom and wouldn't come when I called him. I made my voice stern as I commanded, "Blue come here now." He just looked at me nervously. I looked over to the right, and lying right by the path Blue would have to take to exit the bedroom, was Laney. It seems every time he would approach her, she would growl. I laughed. I guess we know who runs the house now.
I'm slowly clearing out the boxes that littered my house. I have a friend from college days coming to stay with me on Saturday, and the goal is for her to be able to navigate the place without having to move boxes around to get comfortable. I'm not sure I'll hit that goal, but I'll sure try. Last night was a HUGE step forward as I put together the new bathroom étagère and was actually able to get the bathroom stuff into the bathroom and up off the floor. This lead to one couch being cleared off, and actually being able to wear makeup to work today.
My boss's wife originally told me that one of the bonuses to the place I would live (that counterbalances the small space) is that I'm so close to Butler University. Even though I was already well acquainted with the campus, I thought she was just blowing me shit. Until I started walking the dogs. Seriously - WHOLE new respect for my alma mater. Now that I'm not just going from the house to class or class to class, and I'm roaming around the gardens and mall....it's gorgeous! I mean, I knew this, but I didn't KNOW this. Blue, Casey and I found a nifty little loop that takes us about 30 minutes in the morning and begins with a nice walk through Holcomb Gardens and ends with about 40 stairs back up to campus from the canal. Shady, picturesque, safe....seriously. SO worth my location. Maybe this will help me get over the sting of the ridiculous tuition I paid for four years and I'll start donating. Maybe.
The dogs are okay with sleeping in the (cool) basement. Why? Because...
The Bad:
Well, I don't have air conditioning, and I don't yet have screens in the newly painted windows. This is a HUGE BOO!!! While the mornings and evenings have actually been pleasant outside, my place has been stifling with no breeze and, um, no breeze. Ugh. Last night Blue literally melted off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. There is no other description for how he slowly slid to the floor. I would have laughed if I hadn't been trying to remain perfectly still in an effort to cool off. I took a poll, and all the animals decided that I should demand screens today or threaten bodily harm. Done.
There is no way to anticipate everything I need to get the house set up. I'm taking things one box at a time. I stumble across bathroom stuff and have no where to put it? Must purchase étagère. Too many books and nowhere to put a bookshelf? Must buy two Rubbermaid 18 gallon tubs. (and then go back for a third...) I'm currently facing random kitchen crap with nowhere to put it. (I don't have a junk drawer? Seriously? Who built a house with no junk drawer in the kitchen??) I'm thinking a rolling set of Rubbermaid drawers to put potholders/junk/spices in. That will be my purchase tonight and should help get rid of three or four more boxes. I will also get more wall anchors (the correct size this time) and screws to actually try and get pictures hung on the walls....
The Ugly:
The basement and I are still not good friends. However, I put all extra lamps down there, so we've reached an uneasy truce. Still. Large spiders that crunch when I kill them? (While sobbing "Ewwwwwww....ew, ew, ew" mind you) Not cool. I'm going to eventually need a dehumidifier, and have you SEEN how much those suckers cost? Ugh.
Oh, and while the washer and dryer are (finally) hooked up and functional, the washer will only wash with hot water. Odd you say? Why yes. Yes it is odd. You might think that perhaps the cold water that feeds the washer is not turned on. Well, I thought of that, and attempted to remedy the situation, only to find that the cold water doesn't actually have a valve to turn it on and off. Only a sad little stump that is apparently turned to the "off" position. Okay - pliers. Negative Houston. Okay - landlord. Plumber visiting tomorrow. I hope it's easily fixable because the laundry situation is becoming dire. (Oh, and here's a tip - don't try to shower after running an empty load in the washer that turns out to be full of hot water. Just a tip.)
While moving stuff into the place, and on death's doorstep, (cause of death - heatstroke) I took it upon myself to wonder why on earth the ceiling fan wasn't making much of a breeze. I mean, it was on high, and it's only about a foot and a half above my head... So Sunday night I stopped the fan to take a look at what might be wrong. Maybe it's going the wrong direction? A direction change yielded nothing. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the fan is jacked up my friends. Jacked. Up. It's like someone put the fan together from extra parts from about five other fans. The pieces all match, but three blades are angled to the left, and three blades are angled to the right - oh, and they're placed in alternating order. This means that the blades are effectively fighting themselves and not really creating any air flow at all. (This is also why it rocks maniacally from side to side when on high....but that's a whole other story.) I would normally just shake my head and laugh at this, but coupled with the lack of screens, it was enough to make me curse the previous tenant and demand reimbursement for the new brackets I purchased to "fix" the jacked up fan. The "fan fixing" experiment is going to be tonight. I'll keep you posted.
The "ride my bike to work" experiment was postponed to next week. There are just too many errands I'm running in the afternoons to pick up random crap to finish the apartment to justify riding my bike. (Although I'm sure I would look ridiculous with Rubbermaid containers strapped to my back. Worth considering, no?) I use that as the reason for the postponement, but in reality, it's the two flat tires that derailed my lofty goals. I'll get those fixed and get back to you.
I'm actually having quite a bit of fun getting settled in, jacked up fan or no. I just wish I could have all this fun while, you know, not working and stuff. After getting home, changing, walking the dogs, and then getting a bite to eat, there is woefully little time in the evenings to get crap put away. Still, progress is sometimes slow, and at least it's noticeable, right? I promise I'll get pictures up here when I'm not embarrassed of the state of my living quarters. (and, you know, when I get internet capabilities set up.)
Stay tuned for the update next week about the "mowing the lawn" experiment.
Well, I'm in the new place. I've got some semblance of a routine going and I've actually cleared one couch off enough to sit on it. Last night, I even figured out that one of the "dead" switches turns an outlet on and off, so now I have a lamp that I can control from the front door. Oh! And the gas stove works....turns out it was just user error that kept me from making the Papa Murphy's pizza I bought for that first night.
Laney is a happy happy cat. I can't decide if it's the week long head start she had that makes her feel ownership over the place, or the subtraction of Tyson from her life...but she's a happy and outgoing and bossy cat. Last night, Blue was in my bedroom and wouldn't come when I called him. I made my voice stern as I commanded, "Blue come here now." He just looked at me nervously. I looked over to the right, and lying right by the path Blue would have to take to exit the bedroom, was Laney. It seems every time he would approach her, she would growl. I laughed. I guess we know who runs the house now.
I'm slowly clearing out the boxes that littered my house. I have a friend from college days coming to stay with me on Saturday, and the goal is for her to be able to navigate the place without having to move boxes around to get comfortable. I'm not sure I'll hit that goal, but I'll sure try. Last night was a HUGE step forward as I put together the new bathroom étagère and was actually able to get the bathroom stuff into the bathroom and up off the floor. This lead to one couch being cleared off, and actually being able to wear makeup to work today.
My boss's wife originally told me that one of the bonuses to the place I would live (that counterbalances the small space) is that I'm so close to Butler University. Even though I was already well acquainted with the campus, I thought she was just blowing me shit. Until I started walking the dogs. Seriously - WHOLE new respect for my alma mater. Now that I'm not just going from the house to class or class to class, and I'm roaming around the gardens and mall....it's gorgeous! I mean, I knew this, but I didn't KNOW this. Blue, Casey and I found a nifty little loop that takes us about 30 minutes in the morning and begins with a nice walk through Holcomb Gardens and ends with about 40 stairs back up to campus from the canal. Shady, picturesque, safe....seriously. SO worth my location. Maybe this will help me get over the sting of the ridiculous tuition I paid for four years and I'll start donating. Maybe.
The dogs are okay with sleeping in the (cool) basement. Why? Because...
The Bad:
Well, I don't have air conditioning, and I don't yet have screens in the newly painted windows. This is a HUGE BOO!!! While the mornings and evenings have actually been pleasant outside, my place has been stifling with no breeze and, um, no breeze. Ugh. Last night Blue literally melted off the couch and onto the hardwood floor. There is no other description for how he slowly slid to the floor. I would have laughed if I hadn't been trying to remain perfectly still in an effort to cool off. I took a poll, and all the animals decided that I should demand screens today or threaten bodily harm. Done.
There is no way to anticipate everything I need to get the house set up. I'm taking things one box at a time. I stumble across bathroom stuff and have no where to put it? Must purchase étagère. Too many books and nowhere to put a bookshelf? Must buy two Rubbermaid 18 gallon tubs. (and then go back for a third...) I'm currently facing random kitchen crap with nowhere to put it. (I don't have a junk drawer? Seriously? Who built a house with no junk drawer in the kitchen??) I'm thinking a rolling set of Rubbermaid drawers to put potholders/junk/spices in. That will be my purchase tonight and should help get rid of three or four more boxes. I will also get more wall anchors (the correct size this time) and screws to actually try and get pictures hung on the walls....
The Ugly:
The basement and I are still not good friends. However, I put all extra lamps down there, so we've reached an uneasy truce. Still. Large spiders that crunch when I kill them? (While sobbing "Ewwwwwww....ew, ew, ew" mind you) Not cool. I'm going to eventually need a dehumidifier, and have you SEEN how much those suckers cost? Ugh.
Oh, and while the washer and dryer are (finally) hooked up and functional, the washer will only wash with hot water. Odd you say? Why yes. Yes it is odd. You might think that perhaps the cold water that feeds the washer is not turned on. Well, I thought of that, and attempted to remedy the situation, only to find that the cold water doesn't actually have a valve to turn it on and off. Only a sad little stump that is apparently turned to the "off" position. Okay - pliers. Negative Houston. Okay - landlord. Plumber visiting tomorrow. I hope it's easily fixable because the laundry situation is becoming dire. (Oh, and here's a tip - don't try to shower after running an empty load in the washer that turns out to be full of hot water. Just a tip.)
While moving stuff into the place, and on death's doorstep, (cause of death - heatstroke) I took it upon myself to wonder why on earth the ceiling fan wasn't making much of a breeze. I mean, it was on high, and it's only about a foot and a half above my head... So Sunday night I stopped the fan to take a look at what might be wrong. Maybe it's going the wrong direction? A direction change yielded nothing. Upon closer inspection, it appears that the fan is jacked up my friends. Jacked. Up. It's like someone put the fan together from extra parts from about five other fans. The pieces all match, but three blades are angled to the left, and three blades are angled to the right - oh, and they're placed in alternating order. This means that the blades are effectively fighting themselves and not really creating any air flow at all. (This is also why it rocks maniacally from side to side when on high....but that's a whole other story.) I would normally just shake my head and laugh at this, but coupled with the lack of screens, it was enough to make me curse the previous tenant and demand reimbursement for the new brackets I purchased to "fix" the jacked up fan. The "fan fixing" experiment is going to be tonight. I'll keep you posted.
The "ride my bike to work" experiment was postponed to next week. There are just too many errands I'm running in the afternoons to pick up random crap to finish the apartment to justify riding my bike. (Although I'm sure I would look ridiculous with Rubbermaid containers strapped to my back. Worth considering, no?) I use that as the reason for the postponement, but in reality, it's the two flat tires that derailed my lofty goals. I'll get those fixed and get back to you.
I'm actually having quite a bit of fun getting settled in, jacked up fan or no. I just wish I could have all this fun while, you know, not working and stuff. After getting home, changing, walking the dogs, and then getting a bite to eat, there is woefully little time in the evenings to get crap put away. Still, progress is sometimes slow, and at least it's noticeable, right? I promise I'll get pictures up here when I'm not embarrassed of the state of my living quarters. (and, you know, when I get internet capabilities set up.)
Stay tuned for the update next week about the "mowing the lawn" experiment.
Monday, June 09, 2008
Updates
1) I have the best friends in the world, yo. I went into moving weekend thinking that I was so grateful for my friends coming to my aid with moving, but if worse came to worst, I would have been able to handle everything myself.
After watching those guys fit all of my furniture into the U-Haul like a jigsaw puzzle, not to mention wrestle a washer and dryer out of the basement (having to remove the basement door to get the dryer out) moving the new washer and dryer in, unload the furniture into the new (tiny) place, help me plan where to put the recliner (that barely fits...it barely fit through the door, actually) and THEN move the OLD washer and dryer to the boy's new place.... And do all of that with SMILES and LAUGHTER... well, there's no way I could have done that by myself. Buying them lunch and ice cream just doesn't express how very much I appreciate having them to rely on. It makes a single girl misty to know that she's not really that alone after all. (One guy even VOLUNTEERED for this madness....yes, Brad, I'm looking at you.) I'm so very lucky to have met these guys and I'm reminded of that with every act of generosity and kindness.
2) I have disrupted the lives of my children. Laney is already in the new place. I wanted her to have a chance to explore and take an ownership of sorts before I brought the dogs in. I'm not sure that she's actually taking advantage, though, because every time I'm there, she's tucked between the toilet and the bathtub. Maybe now that the furniture is in she'll be a bit more bold. I sure hope so, because we're coming down to crunch time, and the dogs are coming soon...
3) There is no right answer when moving animals. I moved Laney first, but she's obviously terrified alone in a new place without me. However, Casey freaked the HELL out with all these strange people in her apartment moving stuff out the door. She was barking pretty much constantly the entire time the boy moved his stuff on Saturday and I moved my stuff on Sunday. She calmed down a bit when she was let out to explore the emptied apartment, but she's still obviously on edge. Something's going on that she doesn't understand and she's not too happy about it. Blue, on the other hand, has obviously had disruption in his life before and come through it just fine because not only was he the most quiet one, I actually caught him snoozing amidst moving. Yay Blue!!
4) Remember when the boy loved his dog? Yeah, well, any sort of progress that Tyson has made has gone all to hell with the disruption of his routine. With Casey's barking, though constant, I could tell her to "sit" and "lie down" for a brief reprieve in the noise. Tyson has been pretty much foaming at the mouth for two days straight now, complete with whining/howling and heavy panting. At one point, one of my friends mentioned that he sounded like a horse with his panting. Like a neighing horse if that gives you any idea of how bad it was. When we had to move the items in his room, we put him in his crate since the door was standing open and he's the one dog that can't be trusted not to run off. Boy he loved that! Enough to empty his bowels for the boy to clean up. This morning, when putting him in his room as usual (no crate - it's already been moved,) he was immediately freaking out again. Apparently the lack of furniture scares the hell out of him. The boy is terrified of what will happen in the new place. I can't say I blame him. I can't say I'm sorry to see Tyson go, either.
5) Miraculously, everything fits in the new place. One chest will be taken back to my parent's house for storage (because it's kind of nice, and I don't want it in the basement) but everything else fits just fine. Even the recliner. I was beginning to despair about the recliner, but it just fits in the bedroom. I can't really recline, but at least it wasn't given to the spiders. AND it still sort of looks like a normal room. (Some boys will just put furniture anywhwere it fits and couldn't understand that I'm a girl, so the room still had to be functional....)
6) I'm currently on an air mattress in the old place to pack up the remaining items and not have to move the dogs quite yet. I'm officially entirely in the new place by the 15th at the latest. Next week begins the "ride my bike to work" experiment. My friends have bets going....the shortest time being three days before the experiment fails, and the longest being one week. I'm setting out to prove everyone wrong.... (Of course, if it rains, I get to drive.... :-)
7) When the boy got home from work, Bob was MIA. However, I saw him one last time on Friday. Unfortunately, he had attempted to cross a very busy street near my apartment complex - during rush hour. When I called to tell the boy, he made me turn around and attempt to rescue Bob. I did. It was too late. When I got through playing chicken with morning commuters (in my frigging high heels) and got close enough to confirm that Bob had moved on to a better place, the Public Works truck was pulling up to remove him from the road. I did NOT confirm this to the boy. I left it as "I wasn't sure" if he had made it. The boy takes these things pretty hard...better to let him hope, right?
After watching those guys fit all of my furniture into the U-Haul like a jigsaw puzzle, not to mention wrestle a washer and dryer out of the basement (having to remove the basement door to get the dryer out) moving the new washer and dryer in, unload the furniture into the new (tiny) place, help me plan where to put the recliner (that barely fits...it barely fit through the door, actually) and THEN move the OLD washer and dryer to the boy's new place.... And do all of that with SMILES and LAUGHTER... well, there's no way I could have done that by myself. Buying them lunch and ice cream just doesn't express how very much I appreciate having them to rely on. It makes a single girl misty to know that she's not really that alone after all. (One guy even VOLUNTEERED for this madness....yes, Brad, I'm looking at you.) I'm so very lucky to have met these guys and I'm reminded of that with every act of generosity and kindness.
2) I have disrupted the lives of my children. Laney is already in the new place. I wanted her to have a chance to explore and take an ownership of sorts before I brought the dogs in. I'm not sure that she's actually taking advantage, though, because every time I'm there, she's tucked between the toilet and the bathtub. Maybe now that the furniture is in she'll be a bit more bold. I sure hope so, because we're coming down to crunch time, and the dogs are coming soon...
3) There is no right answer when moving animals. I moved Laney first, but she's obviously terrified alone in a new place without me. However, Casey freaked the HELL out with all these strange people in her apartment moving stuff out the door. She was barking pretty much constantly the entire time the boy moved his stuff on Saturday and I moved my stuff on Sunday. She calmed down a bit when she was let out to explore the emptied apartment, but she's still obviously on edge. Something's going on that she doesn't understand and she's not too happy about it. Blue, on the other hand, has obviously had disruption in his life before and come through it just fine because not only was he the most quiet one, I actually caught him snoozing amidst moving. Yay Blue!!
4) Remember when the boy loved his dog? Yeah, well, any sort of progress that Tyson has made has gone all to hell with the disruption of his routine. With Casey's barking, though constant, I could tell her to "sit" and "lie down" for a brief reprieve in the noise. Tyson has been pretty much foaming at the mouth for two days straight now, complete with whining/howling and heavy panting. At one point, one of my friends mentioned that he sounded like a horse with his panting. Like a neighing horse if that gives you any idea of how bad it was. When we had to move the items in his room, we put him in his crate since the door was standing open and he's the one dog that can't be trusted not to run off. Boy he loved that! Enough to empty his bowels for the boy to clean up. This morning, when putting him in his room as usual (no crate - it's already been moved,) he was immediately freaking out again. Apparently the lack of furniture scares the hell out of him. The boy is terrified of what will happen in the new place. I can't say I blame him. I can't say I'm sorry to see Tyson go, either.
5) Miraculously, everything fits in the new place. One chest will be taken back to my parent's house for storage (because it's kind of nice, and I don't want it in the basement) but everything else fits just fine. Even the recliner. I was beginning to despair about the recliner, but it just fits in the bedroom. I can't really recline, but at least it wasn't given to the spiders. AND it still sort of looks like a normal room. (Some boys will just put furniture anywhwere it fits and couldn't understand that I'm a girl, so the room still had to be functional....)
6) I'm currently on an air mattress in the old place to pack up the remaining items and not have to move the dogs quite yet. I'm officially entirely in the new place by the 15th at the latest. Next week begins the "ride my bike to work" experiment. My friends have bets going....the shortest time being three days before the experiment fails, and the longest being one week. I'm setting out to prove everyone wrong.... (Of course, if it rains, I get to drive.... :-)
7) When the boy got home from work, Bob was MIA. However, I saw him one last time on Friday. Unfortunately, he had attempted to cross a very busy street near my apartment complex - during rush hour. When I called to tell the boy, he made me turn around and attempt to rescue Bob. I did. It was too late. When I got through playing chicken with morning commuters (in my frigging high heels) and got close enough to confirm that Bob had moved on to a better place, the Public Works truck was pulling up to remove him from the road. I did NOT confirm this to the boy. I left it as "I wasn't sure" if he had made it. The boy takes these things pretty hard...better to let him hope, right?
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Lots of Crap, Little Apartment
So I'm moving. I'm moving from a very large three-bedroom-with-attached-garage apartment to half of a double with one bedroom. One small bedroom. (But it has a basement!! Can't forget the spider-infested, dark, dank, Emily-will-probably-never-do-laundry-again basement!! For some reason, everyone always tells me this (minus the adjectives) when I talk about my new place.)
And yet, even knowing the size difference, for some reason I didn't think that my stuff would be affected. After all, I lived in a one bedroom apartment before the boy, surely I can live in a one bedroom apartment after the boy just as easily.
Um, no.
There have already been sacrifices. I'm pretty sure I'm going to receive some sort of award from Goodwill for the number of bags I've taken over there in the last three days. All my beloved movies that happened to be on VHS tapes? Axed. VCR? Axed. I originally thought I would have to put the dining room table down in the basement but after careful measurements, I think it will fit in the living room and will serve as my study table. Computer desk will move to the bedroom. See? Everything fits.
Well, almost everything.
But I'm going back to school. Tuition is a bitch, and I'm making sacrifices for a reason. I can do this.
See, there's this recliner. And I don't have room for it. But it's my RECLINER. I'm emotionally attached. Here's a picture.
Oh, whoops...that's what it looks like when I'm not CONSTANTLY asking the boy to PICK! UP! YOUR! CLOTHES!...which I've pretty much stopped doing since we decided to take a brief hiatus on the cohabitation experiment. After all, what's the point now? Here's what the recliner really looks like:
Given my competitive nature and the fact that it's such a very cheerful color of blue (not to mention comfortable as HELL to read a book in) it's one of my favorite pieces of furniture. When you can see it.
But I have no room for it. None. And, to be honest, it matches nothing. I don't know what to do. So here are the options that I'm facing. I'll leave it up to you guys to tell me what to do with it.
1) Give it to the boy.
This has one pro (at least it would be used) and several cons (um, 'we're broken up' and 'I don't want Tyson on it' immediately spring to mind.) Ultimately, what keeps me from doing this is the thought that if we didn't ever patch things up, I would never see my recliner again. And then I would hate myself forever.
2) Put it in the basement.
The rational part of my mind knows that the basement in the new place is no better or worse than an unfinished basement in any other place. But seeing as how I've never lived in a place with an unfinished basement, I'm still creeped out. Spiderwebs everywhere. Spiderwebs mean spiders. Spiders crawling into my recliner. Into the stuffing. So that perhaps when the recliner is moved into a bigger location someday, the spiders would then exit and eat whoever is then sitting on the recliner. To be honest, I'm not really a fan of this option.
3) Goodwill.
Which would make me cry. And really, no one wants to see me cry. I'm not a pretty crier.
So I have no idea what to do. I can't put it in the bedroom and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the living room and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the kitchen, because - really? In the kitchen? Besides, I wouldn't have any room to move at all.
So I'm sad. I fear the recliner may have to pay the ultimate price in the name of continuing education. Thoughts? Comments? Salvation for the recliner?
And yet, even knowing the size difference, for some reason I didn't think that my stuff would be affected. After all, I lived in a one bedroom apartment before the boy, surely I can live in a one bedroom apartment after the boy just as easily.
Um, no.
There have already been sacrifices. I'm pretty sure I'm going to receive some sort of award from Goodwill for the number of bags I've taken over there in the last three days. All my beloved movies that happened to be on VHS tapes? Axed. VCR? Axed. I originally thought I would have to put the dining room table down in the basement but after careful measurements, I think it will fit in the living room and will serve as my study table. Computer desk will move to the bedroom. See? Everything fits.
Well, almost everything.
But I'm going back to school. Tuition is a bitch, and I'm making sacrifices for a reason. I can do this.
See, there's this recliner. And I don't have room for it. But it's my RECLINER. I'm emotionally attached. Here's a picture.
Oh, whoops...that's what it looks like when I'm not CONSTANTLY asking the boy to PICK! UP! YOUR! CLOTHES!...which I've pretty much stopped doing since we decided to take a brief hiatus on the cohabitation experiment. After all, what's the point now? Here's what the recliner really looks like:
Given my competitive nature and the fact that it's such a very cheerful color of blue (not to mention comfortable as HELL to read a book in) it's one of my favorite pieces of furniture. When you can see it.
But I have no room for it. None. And, to be honest, it matches nothing. I don't know what to do. So here are the options that I'm facing. I'll leave it up to you guys to tell me what to do with it.
1) Give it to the boy.
This has one pro (at least it would be used) and several cons (um, 'we're broken up' and 'I don't want Tyson on it' immediately spring to mind.) Ultimately, what keeps me from doing this is the thought that if we didn't ever patch things up, I would never see my recliner again. And then I would hate myself forever.
2) Put it in the basement.
The rational part of my mind knows that the basement in the new place is no better or worse than an unfinished basement in any other place. But seeing as how I've never lived in a place with an unfinished basement, I'm still creeped out. Spiderwebs everywhere. Spiderwebs mean spiders. Spiders crawling into my recliner. Into the stuffing. So that perhaps when the recliner is moved into a bigger location someday, the spiders would then exit and eat whoever is then sitting on the recliner. To be honest, I'm not really a fan of this option.
3) Goodwill.
Which would make me cry. And really, no one wants to see me cry. I'm not a pretty crier.
So I have no idea what to do. I can't put it in the bedroom and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the living room and have any room to move at all. I can't put it in the kitchen, because - really? In the kitchen? Besides, I wouldn't have any room to move at all.
So I'm sad. I fear the recliner may have to pay the ultimate price in the name of continuing education. Thoughts? Comments? Salvation for the recliner?
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Adventures in the Apartment Complex
So, this post is a brief intermission between tales of moving. I have plenty of before and after pictures of painting to show you, but I took my computer apart and it won't be back until Sunday at the earliest, so you'll just have to wait on those.
BTW, how can no one have told me how much painting sucks? Seriously? I mean, here I was thinking it would be fun. Um, no. There was no fun. It was sucky. I agree with bsj and if anyone knows a boy that I can marry who enjoys painting, and a job I can get where I travel a lot, I'm in. Painting = suck. Especially the taping. Sample conversation:
"[Insert Boy's name here], why am I taping? It's my new place...how come I don't get to do the fun painting?"
"Because taping is the bitch work, and you're the bitch."
"Point taken."
I did eventually get to paint (and it wasn't fun painting)...and then I found out that I'm really really bad at it. Either that or the boy is just really really good at it. (It does have direct relation to his job...) I don't know if it was just the patience thing...or the fact that the color I used was darker... Whatever. My kitchen (that I painted) was super streaky and my bedroom (that he painted) looked perfect. We had to go back for a second coat in the kitchen to cover my mistakes. My kitchen is now YELLOW! (or GOLDENROD if you want to be really specific.) Whatever. My accent wall kicks ass. You'll see...
This morning when I was walking the dogs, we came across this:
It's not a great picture, but I would say the sucker was about a foot and a half to two feet across at his widest. Seeing as how my only experience with a turtle was a box turtle that I "rescued" from my backyard and took into science class in the eighth grade (and named "Louis" by the way. "Louis the Turtle" to be exact) and given the fact that this turtle bared little to no resemblance to Louis, and in fact had a large tail that was alarmingly similar to an alligator tail, I figured this was not a turtle to mess with.
Since the turtle was just chilling in my apartment complex, a good quarter mile from the nearest pond, I originally thought he was just a lawn decoration. Casey pranced up to the turtle with an "Oh, hello weird other living organism" expression. When the turtle hissed at her, I regained my senses and pulled her away from it. I then rushed home, took a picture on my cell phone (excuse the crappiness of the picture) and called the boy to ask what the heck sort of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle I had stumbled across.
Imagine my dismay to find out that it is a very ordinary snapping turtle. (Well, a very ordinary snapping turtle that could have taken Casey's nose off had I not removed her from striking distance.) Alas, all my dreams of having a new species of turtle named after Casey have been shattered. (I still think that alligator tail is freaky. You should have seen it in real life.) The boy went on and on (and on and on) about what he would have done with the turtle (put it on our enclosed porch) so that he could "rescue" it and return it to the nearest pond after work. Whatever. I wasn't picking up that thing. When my cat hisses at Casey, she gets scratched. When geese hiss at me, they charge me and are MEAN. I wasn't about to see what this mutant turtle did after hissing. No sir. I like having 10 fingers.
I have since decided that the mutant turtle will be called "Bob" and that we can just hope that Bob is still around when the boy and I get home. After all, think about how much fun the post will be when the boy attempts to move Bob and suffers Bob's wrath? I'll be right there taking pictures for you all...(when I'm not saving the bitten off piece of finger on ice so that the doctors in the ER can sew it back on.) We can only dream...
BTW, how can no one have told me how much painting sucks? Seriously? I mean, here I was thinking it would be fun. Um, no. There was no fun. It was sucky. I agree with bsj and if anyone knows a boy that I can marry who enjoys painting, and a job I can get where I travel a lot, I'm in. Painting = suck. Especially the taping. Sample conversation:
"[Insert Boy's name here], why am I taping? It's my new place...how come I don't get to do the fun painting?"
"Because taping is the bitch work, and you're the bitch."
"Point taken."
I did eventually get to paint (and it wasn't fun painting)...and then I found out that I'm really really bad at it. Either that or the boy is just really really good at it. (It does have direct relation to his job...) I don't know if it was just the patience thing...or the fact that the color I used was darker... Whatever. My kitchen (that I painted) was super streaky and my bedroom (that he painted) looked perfect. We had to go back for a second coat in the kitchen to cover my mistakes. My kitchen is now YELLOW! (or GOLDENROD if you want to be really specific.) Whatever. My accent wall kicks ass. You'll see...
This morning when I was walking the dogs, we came across this:
It's not a great picture, but I would say the sucker was about a foot and a half to two feet across at his widest. Seeing as how my only experience with a turtle was a box turtle that I "rescued" from my backyard and took into science class in the eighth grade (and named "Louis" by the way. "Louis the Turtle" to be exact) and given the fact that this turtle bared little to no resemblance to Louis, and in fact had a large tail that was alarmingly similar to an alligator tail, I figured this was not a turtle to mess with.
Since the turtle was just chilling in my apartment complex, a good quarter mile from the nearest pond, I originally thought he was just a lawn decoration. Casey pranced up to the turtle with an "Oh, hello weird other living organism" expression. When the turtle hissed at her, I regained my senses and pulled her away from it. I then rushed home, took a picture on my cell phone (excuse the crappiness of the picture) and called the boy to ask what the heck sort of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle I had stumbled across.
Imagine my dismay to find out that it is a very ordinary snapping turtle. (Well, a very ordinary snapping turtle that could have taken Casey's nose off had I not removed her from striking distance.) Alas, all my dreams of having a new species of turtle named after Casey have been shattered. (I still think that alligator tail is freaky. You should have seen it in real life.) The boy went on and on (and on and on) about what he would have done with the turtle (put it on our enclosed porch) so that he could "rescue" it and return it to the nearest pond after work. Whatever. I wasn't picking up that thing. When my cat hisses at Casey, she gets scratched. When geese hiss at me, they charge me and are MEAN. I wasn't about to see what this mutant turtle did after hissing. No sir. I like having 10 fingers.
I have since decided that the mutant turtle will be called "Bob" and that we can just hope that Bob is still around when the boy and I get home. After all, think about how much fun the post will be when the boy attempts to move Bob and suffers Bob's wrath? I'll be right there taking pictures for you all...(when I'm not saving the bitten off piece of finger on ice so that the doctors in the ER can sew it back on.) We can only dream...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Do-It-Yourself for Daughters
"Hey Dad, how do you install a new door?"
"A new door?"
"Yes. Say I wanted to install a new front door. How do I do that?"
"You go to Lowe's and ask someone to help you. They have contractors that do that."
"Okay. And I also need to... Hey, hold on a sec. Is that the same answer that you would have given [insert little brother's name here] if he had asked you?"
"No."
"What would you have told him?"
"Doesn't matter. You're Emily. Go to Lowe's."
"Seriously?! C'mon. I can do things! I'm capable!"
This is the sort of thing I'm facing when asking about various fix-it issues I'm finding in my new home. Since having that conversation with my father, I found out that you don't need a whole new door to put in a doorknob. Live and learn, right? (originally there was no doorknob...just a handle - like a cabinet handle - and two deadbolts. There is now a doorknob and a deadbolt :-)
BTW - don't judge me on my household ignorance. I was/am content to rent for the rest of my life....spare me the lecture please. I would just as soon call someone to come and fix things and not have to worry about how my yard looks, or if my gutters are hanging, or if that crazy dog dug up the carpet and destroyed the door. (I've seen what crazy dogs can do to homes that people actually own. Yes, Ann, I'm looking at you.) Maybe that will change someday, but for now, I do not want the responsibility. Please. I have enough worries trying to get myself to school and to work and to pay my bills and to take care of my dogs. And my cat.
However, in this place I'm also (hold on to your seats everyone) painting various rooms and walls, as well as purchasing curtains. Why is this significant? Well, it's never been done before. Ever. In the various apartments I've inhabited, I've hung various items on the walls to give color, but I have never painted, and I've never purchased curtains - just left the miniblinds.
I got keys on Monday, so I've been through several times, and my list of to-dos looks like this:
1) Purchase and install three new light fixtures
2) Buy new stove things that go beneath the burners (what the hell are they called? You know...the metal things that catch the soup when I boil it over...)
3) Paint the trim in all rooms
4) Paint one wall in living room, entire kitchen and bedroom
5) Scrub everything
6) Replace various missing screws
7) Purchase some sort of bathroom caddy to hold various girl crap
Some of those things are covered by the landlord in a "you-fix-it-and-give-me-recipts" kind of way. Obviously the painting is all me. The cleaning is because I'm OCD.
This should be an interesting journey, no? I'll try to take before and after pictures, but I promise nothing...
Oh yes. I got lost on the way to volleyball from my new house last night. Theoretically, my commute to volleyball should be shortened by 20 minutes. In reality, it took me just as long as usual because I got lost. My house is 7 miles from volleyball and I got lost. It took me 30 minutes to get there. I'm awesome. And capable. Did I mention capable?
"A new door?"
"Yes. Say I wanted to install a new front door. How do I do that?"
"You go to Lowe's and ask someone to help you. They have contractors that do that."
"Okay. And I also need to... Hey, hold on a sec. Is that the same answer that you would have given [insert little brother's name here] if he had asked you?"
"No."
"What would you have told him?"
"Doesn't matter. You're Emily. Go to Lowe's."
"Seriously?! C'mon. I can do things! I'm capable!"
This is the sort of thing I'm facing when asking about various fix-it issues I'm finding in my new home. Since having that conversation with my father, I found out that you don't need a whole new door to put in a doorknob. Live and learn, right? (originally there was no doorknob...just a handle - like a cabinet handle - and two deadbolts. There is now a doorknob and a deadbolt :-)
BTW - don't judge me on my household ignorance. I was/am content to rent for the rest of my life....spare me the lecture please. I would just as soon call someone to come and fix things and not have to worry about how my yard looks, or if my gutters are hanging, or if that crazy dog dug up the carpet and destroyed the door. (I've seen what crazy dogs can do to homes that people actually own. Yes, Ann, I'm looking at you.) Maybe that will change someday, but for now, I do not want the responsibility. Please. I have enough worries trying to get myself to school and to work and to pay my bills and to take care of my dogs. And my cat.
However, in this place I'm also (hold on to your seats everyone) painting various rooms and walls, as well as purchasing curtains. Why is this significant? Well, it's never been done before. Ever. In the various apartments I've inhabited, I've hung various items on the walls to give color, but I have never painted, and I've never purchased curtains - just left the miniblinds.
I got keys on Monday, so I've been through several times, and my list of to-dos looks like this:
1) Purchase and install three new light fixtures
2) Buy new stove things that go beneath the burners (what the hell are they called? You know...the metal things that catch the soup when I boil it over...)
3) Paint the trim in all rooms
4) Paint one wall in living room, entire kitchen and bedroom
5) Scrub everything
6) Replace various missing screws
7) Purchase some sort of bathroom caddy to hold various girl crap
Some of those things are covered by the landlord in a "you-fix-it-and-give-me-recipts" kind of way. Obviously the painting is all me. The cleaning is because I'm OCD.
This should be an interesting journey, no? I'll try to take before and after pictures, but I promise nothing...
Oh yes. I got lost on the way to volleyball from my new house last night. Theoretically, my commute to volleyball should be shortened by 20 minutes. In reality, it took me just as long as usual because I got lost. My house is 7 miles from volleyball and I got lost. It took me 30 minutes to get there. I'm awesome. And capable. Did I mention capable?
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Dog Lovers...
...are a special breed. I'm a recently hooked YouTube addict and found this. I thought it was a great story so I wanted to share.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Too Many Words
Way way back in the day, when the boy adopted Tyson and we realized that he needed some training (little did we know then... our ignorance was almost cute in retrospect) we took him to doggy training classes at a great facility near our apartment. (K-9 First Friends, if you're interested. I can't recommend them enough. They did what they could.) It was my first experience "owning" a dog (even though he wasn't mine) and I was super interested in the whole "calm, assertive" leader thing. I quickly ascertained that owning dogs isn't much different than child rearing. Some parents are lawmakers, and some parents are just walked all over. Same goes for dog owners. After wrangling with the 80lb Tyson, and actually getting him to heel, I was immensely amused at the couple who couldn't get their 15lb cocker spaniel to walk. "He just doesn't want to" was their explanation when the trainer asked what was wrong.
The trainer gave them a look like they were insane, took the leash, and dragged the unwilling dog onto the track where everyone else was walking peacefully. Within 15 seconds, the dog realized that he could walk or be dragged, and hell, walking wasn't that bad... so he was walking along with the others. It was at this point that I realized that you can love your dog, but you can't LOVE your dog. Your dog should be part of your life, but he/she should never run it. I thought I completely understood.
Which is why I was slightly offended when the trainer said that men generally make better pack leaders and dog trainers than women. To be fair, I usually take umbrage with any "men are better than women at this because..." statement, but in this case, I thought it was particularly unfair. I could be just as hard nosed as any male dog owner. My dogs would most definitely learn to obey. If I wanted them to walk, they would walk.
Then the trainer explained, "Women talk too much. They use too many words, so the dog eventually tunes them out. A woman will use 10 words to say 'sit' and a man will just say 'sit.'" I considered this briefly, then thought about how I didn't ever (EVER) talk to Tyson unless it was to correct him. I certainly didn't find myself ever talking to him to tell him about my day or anything... (that was reserved for Laney) so I dismissed this as a stereotype founded in the trainer's own personal bias. Obviously I would be a great dog owner some day.
Now, while that statement may not be true all the time, I'm going to have to admit that apparently, that does apply to me. I'm faced with this reality after my walk with Casey and Blue this morning. This morning I did not wear my iPod. Usually I wear my iPod, so I can't hear myself say these things. I'm now worried that people who randomly pass me on my walks think I'm insane.
Upon finding goose droppings:
"Drop it! Blu-ue! If you don't drop that right now, I will abandon you right on this sidewalk. Then where will you be? You don't even have a tag with my phone number so you're not really adopted yet. We do NOT eat goose poop!"
Upon being scared of an upcoming trash can:
"Heel. Heel Casey! Would I lead you into danger? Seriously? You're supposed to stay right by me. Ignore the huge blue thing. If mom's not scared, you can't be scared either. Look at Blue! He's just fine."
Upon chasing the umpteenth bird on the walk:
"Ow! Blue! That hurt! You heel right now! You're never going to catch the birds! They FLY you dork!"
Upon ignoring the hyperactive lab going apeshit while walking with it's owner on the opposite side of the road:
"Good Dogs! Good heel. You guys are so awesome. I love when you guys prove that "pit bull" and "good dog" are not mutually exclusive."
Upon tripping over Casey:
"Damnit Case! Go! Not heeling is a gift. If you're going to lead, lead. Don't stop in the middle of the sidewalk."
Upon being bitten by another dog:
"No Blue. Do not bite back. Oh, poor baby. You're okay. C'mon buddy. It's not the dog's fault. It's the stupid owners who built a fence with two inch gaps between fenceposts. I'll take care of you when we get home, and then we'll laugh when they get sued by the parents of the neighborhood child who lost a couple of fingers..."
Along those lines, the last time we went to doggie day care (before the weather turned warmer) I forgot Casey's leash. When we were leaving there were two men in the waiting room, one with a hyperactive lab mix that was being dropped off for boarding, and the other awaiting their dog for pickup. Since I didn't have a leash, I was trying to get out of the waiting room as soon as possible. Casey followed me to the door, miraculously sat upon the first "sit" and then waited patiently while I opened the door and then gave her permission to exit. It was fabulous. There are now two people in Indianapolis who believe my dog is the most well trained dog EVER. So maybe I'm okay at being a dog owner.
Well, when when my dogs choose to listen, right?
The trainer gave them a look like they were insane, took the leash, and dragged the unwilling dog onto the track where everyone else was walking peacefully. Within 15 seconds, the dog realized that he could walk or be dragged, and hell, walking wasn't that bad... so he was walking along with the others. It was at this point that I realized that you can love your dog, but you can't LOVE your dog. Your dog should be part of your life, but he/she should never run it. I thought I completely understood.
Which is why I was slightly offended when the trainer said that men generally make better pack leaders and dog trainers than women. To be fair, I usually take umbrage with any "men are better than women at this because..." statement, but in this case, I thought it was particularly unfair. I could be just as hard nosed as any male dog owner. My dogs would most definitely learn to obey. If I wanted them to walk, they would walk.
Then the trainer explained, "Women talk too much. They use too many words, so the dog eventually tunes them out. A woman will use 10 words to say 'sit' and a man will just say 'sit.'" I considered this briefly, then thought about how I didn't ever (EVER) talk to Tyson unless it was to correct him. I certainly didn't find myself ever talking to him to tell him about my day or anything... (that was reserved for Laney) so I dismissed this as a stereotype founded in the trainer's own personal bias. Obviously I would be a great dog owner some day.
Now, while that statement may not be true all the time, I'm going to have to admit that apparently, that does apply to me. I'm faced with this reality after my walk with Casey and Blue this morning. This morning I did not wear my iPod. Usually I wear my iPod, so I can't hear myself say these things. I'm now worried that people who randomly pass me on my walks think I'm insane.
Upon finding goose droppings:
"Drop it! Blu-ue! If you don't drop that right now, I will abandon you right on this sidewalk. Then where will you be? You don't even have a tag with my phone number so you're not really adopted yet. We do NOT eat goose poop!"
Upon being scared of an upcoming trash can:
"Heel. Heel Casey! Would I lead you into danger? Seriously? You're supposed to stay right by me. Ignore the huge blue thing. If mom's not scared, you can't be scared either. Look at Blue! He's just fine."
Upon chasing the umpteenth bird on the walk:
"Ow! Blue! That hurt! You heel right now! You're never going to catch the birds! They FLY you dork!"
Upon ignoring the hyperactive lab going apeshit while walking with it's owner on the opposite side of the road:
"Good Dogs! Good heel. You guys are so awesome. I love when you guys prove that "pit bull" and "good dog" are not mutually exclusive."
Upon tripping over Casey:
"Damnit Case! Go! Not heeling is a gift. If you're going to lead, lead. Don't stop in the middle of the sidewalk."
Upon being bitten by another dog:
"No Blue. Do not bite back. Oh, poor baby. You're okay. C'mon buddy. It's not the dog's fault. It's the stupid owners who built a fence with two inch gaps between fenceposts. I'll take care of you when we get home, and then we'll laugh when they get sued by the parents of the neighborhood child who lost a couple of fingers..."
Along those lines, the last time we went to doggie day care (before the weather turned warmer) I forgot Casey's leash. When we were leaving there were two men in the waiting room, one with a hyperactive lab mix that was being dropped off for boarding, and the other awaiting their dog for pickup. Since I didn't have a leash, I was trying to get out of the waiting room as soon as possible. Casey followed me to the door, miraculously sat upon the first "sit" and then waited patiently while I opened the door and then gave her permission to exit. It was fabulous. There are now two people in Indianapolis who believe my dog is the most well trained dog EVER. So maybe I'm okay at being a dog owner.
Well, when when my dogs choose to listen, right?
Friday, May 23, 2008
Solar Powered
We had a couple of absolutely beautiful days mid-week this week, and I was going to write a post with the title above because I had so much energy and was in such a good mood!!!
And then today came with the rain, and it became even more apparent that I am most definitely solar powered. Rain sucks. Cloudy sucks. Can this day just hurry up and be over, please? Kthxbai.
This morning, I was doing my insubordinate surf-favorite-blogs-instead-of-starting-work-right-away-because-I-may-work-for-you-but-I-don't-have-to-be-happy-to-be-here thing (which only happens on days like today...promise!) and I found this post from one of my favorite bloggers. Um, that may be fundamentally her, but it's also an almost spot on perfect description of me. And since she said it better than I ever could, I'll just link to her blog and do the internet equivalent of "Yeah. What she said."
This weekend looks to be decent weather, and I'm so glad. I'm pretty against taking the dogs to daycare during the summer when I am perfectly capable of going on walks with them and wearing them out for free. However, this does require less sleeping and a general exercise of that "willpower" thing that, to be honest, has been pretty MIA lately. When it rains my plans are foiled (though I will admit that I enjoy the extra sleep in the mornings) and the dogs are nutso in the evening. So my grand aspirations for this long weekend are A) hike with the dogs, B) begin packing for the big move and C) go see Emily's most anticipated movie of the summer.
I hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend and it's as relaxing as I hope mine is.
And then today came with the rain, and it became even more apparent that I am most definitely solar powered. Rain sucks. Cloudy sucks. Can this day just hurry up and be over, please? Kthxbai.
This morning, I was doing my insubordinate surf-favorite-blogs-instead-of-starting-work-right-away-because-I-may-work-for-you-but-I-don't-have-to-be-happy-to-be-here thing (which only happens on days like today...promise!) and I found this post from one of my favorite bloggers. Um, that may be fundamentally her, but it's also an almost spot on perfect description of me. And since she said it better than I ever could, I'll just link to her blog and do the internet equivalent of "Yeah. What she said."
This weekend looks to be decent weather, and I'm so glad. I'm pretty against taking the dogs to daycare during the summer when I am perfectly capable of going on walks with them and wearing them out for free. However, this does require less sleeping and a general exercise of that "willpower" thing that, to be honest, has been pretty MIA lately. When it rains my plans are foiled (though I will admit that I enjoy the extra sleep in the mornings) and the dogs are nutso in the evening. So my grand aspirations for this long weekend are A) hike with the dogs, B) begin packing for the big move and C) go see Emily's most anticipated movie of the summer.
I hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend and it's as relaxing as I hope mine is.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
It's my blog and I'll post what I want to
So, I finally got to the good part in Duma Key and couldn't put the book down last night. All Stephen King aficionados realize that his books start out slowly and gradually build until it's 2:00am and you have to get up in four hours but just want to read one more chapter... You would think I could have seen this coming and put the book down at 9:00pm like a good girl. In fact, I did set the alarm for 9:00pm. I just chose to read one more chapter.
Of course, I scared the hell out of myself and couldn't sleep after I turned the lights out. But then, that's what I have dogs for. Something tells me that they don't mind sleeping in the bed every now and then. In fact, I believe they would buy me more scary books if they could. And even though I know that Casey is a big wuss, I am confident that she would at least bark at any ghosts/scary strangers, and Blue would leap to my defense. They make a good team, those two. Between those two, and Laney who patrols the house for tiny threats (i.e. spiders, ants, random other creatures with more than four legs) I think I'm safe. It's a good thing since I've got about 100 more pages to read tonight.
< Side note >: my boss thinks it's HILARIOUS that I love to read scary books, watch scary movies, own pit bulls and am terrified of cockroaches. I tried to explain the definition of phobia to him, but he just kept saying, "If you know it's irrational, can't you just talk yourself out of it?" Well, at this moment, yes. When faced with a cockroach, not so much.
His wife then pointed out, "You know that when living in a house, you're going to have to deal with spiders, roaches, mice, etc. Right?" Hmmm... No, actually, I hadn't thought of that. Mice? Meh. Spiders? Well, Laney's getting older, but she is still the spider killer. (with the unfortunate tendency of leaving her conquests in my shoes....but still, dead spiders are better than live spiders.) But roaches? Um, no one signed me up for roaches. Yeesh. Can't wait until I see my first one of those. Anyone willing to be my emergency contact cockroach killer? < /Side Note >
After a rough period of adjustment, I think I'm okay with summer life sans school. For a while there, I was not doing a damn thing. My body seemed to think that if I didn't take advantage of the free time while I had it, I would never have it again. I think I've now convinced myself that I have a few months, and it's okay to move around some....I do not have to permanently affix myself to the couch. Oh, and I can read books that aren't school related. Yay for books! And movies! Now that I can do irresponsible things like read until 2:00am with no severe repercussions, I can surely go to the first showing of this movie. It's at 12:01am on Thursday, May 22nd. Who's with me?? (Oh, and if you're not super excited about that movie, we can no longer be friends...)
I do find myself more choosy with movies and books now, however. I never claimed that my taste in books was flawless, but I do have some relationships with authors that go way back and have stood the test of time... They're my tried-and-true-buy-the-hardcover-version-when-released relationships. Luckily, they don't demand exclusivity, and I've had the occasional casual dalliance with other authors in the past. If these new authors disappoint me, meh. It's not like we're exclusive. However now - while I am getting used to the free time, part of me also realizes that it's not forever. If I'm going to get involved with an author, it's got to be worth my time. So while I had a casual fling once with Emily Giffin, she burned me once, so now I'm not so sure I'm willing to spend time on her latest endeavor. Does anyone have any sure-fire suggestions that I can spend my precious free time on? I've already got the Chronicles of Narnia on my list (no, I never read them when I was young) as well as the Golden Compass series. I would also like to read the latest by Khaled Hosseini, The Other Boleyn Girl... The list goes on and on, but I'm always open for suggestions. Anyone? I've got this $25 gift certificate to amazon.com just burning a hole in my pocket.
Finally, to wrap up the randomness, it's confirmed that Blue is here to stay.
I can officially no longer foster, dogsit, adopt, or even LOOK at another dog. I am full. I am officially the crazy lady with all the animals. Sigh. But in my defense, here's a picture of Blue's "piggy face." This is how he looks when he's completely content and curled up on your lap. How could I resist?
Of course, I scared the hell out of myself and couldn't sleep after I turned the lights out. But then, that's what I have dogs for. Something tells me that they don't mind sleeping in the bed every now and then. In fact, I believe they would buy me more scary books if they could. And even though I know that Casey is a big wuss, I am confident that she would at least bark at any ghosts/scary strangers, and Blue would leap to my defense. They make a good team, those two. Between those two, and Laney who patrols the house for tiny threats (i.e. spiders, ants, random other creatures with more than four legs) I think I'm safe. It's a good thing since I've got about 100 more pages to read tonight.
< Side note >: my boss thinks it's HILARIOUS that I love to read scary books, watch scary movies, own pit bulls and am terrified of cockroaches. I tried to explain the definition of phobia to him, but he just kept saying, "If you know it's irrational, can't you just talk yourself out of it?" Well, at this moment, yes. When faced with a cockroach, not so much.
His wife then pointed out, "You know that when living in a house, you're going to have to deal with spiders, roaches, mice, etc. Right?" Hmmm... No, actually, I hadn't thought of that. Mice? Meh. Spiders? Well, Laney's getting older, but she is still the spider killer. (with the unfortunate tendency of leaving her conquests in my shoes....but still, dead spiders are better than live spiders.) But roaches? Um, no one signed me up for roaches. Yeesh. Can't wait until I see my first one of those. Anyone willing to be my emergency contact cockroach killer? < /Side Note >
After a rough period of adjustment, I think I'm okay with summer life sans school. For a while there, I was not doing a damn thing. My body seemed to think that if I didn't take advantage of the free time while I had it, I would never have it again. I think I've now convinced myself that I have a few months, and it's okay to move around some....I do not have to permanently affix myself to the couch. Oh, and I can read books that aren't school related. Yay for books! And movies! Now that I can do irresponsible things like read until 2:00am with no severe repercussions, I can surely go to the first showing of this movie. It's at 12:01am on Thursday, May 22nd. Who's with me?? (Oh, and if you're not super excited about that movie, we can no longer be friends...)
I do find myself more choosy with movies and books now, however. I never claimed that my taste in books was flawless, but I do have some relationships with authors that go way back and have stood the test of time... They're my tried-and-true-buy-the-hardcover-version-when-released relationships. Luckily, they don't demand exclusivity, and I've had the occasional casual dalliance with other authors in the past. If these new authors disappoint me, meh. It's not like we're exclusive. However now - while I am getting used to the free time, part of me also realizes that it's not forever. If I'm going to get involved with an author, it's got to be worth my time. So while I had a casual fling once with Emily Giffin, she burned me once, so now I'm not so sure I'm willing to spend time on her latest endeavor. Does anyone have any sure-fire suggestions that I can spend my precious free time on? I've already got the Chronicles of Narnia on my list (no, I never read them when I was young) as well as the Golden Compass series. I would also like to read the latest by Khaled Hosseini, The Other Boleyn Girl... The list goes on and on, but I'm always open for suggestions. Anyone? I've got this $25 gift certificate to amazon.com just burning a hole in my pocket.
Finally, to wrap up the randomness, it's confirmed that Blue is here to stay.
I can officially no longer foster, dogsit, adopt, or even LOOK at another dog. I am full. I am officially the crazy lady with all the animals. Sigh. But in my defense, here's a picture of Blue's "piggy face." This is how he looks when he's completely content and curled up on your lap. How could I resist?
Friday, May 16, 2008
Reality Bites
A couple of days ago, the head of the pit bull rescue that I work/volunteer for received an email that read like this (obviously, names have been removed to protect the innocent):
"I have a staffordshire terrier I need to go to a good home. We have a young child, new home and are unable to take good care of him. He is 6 years old, white with tan spots, one brown-one blue eye. Billy is energetic and loving.
Please let me konw what my next steps would be, or where I can take him."
The head of the rescue responded like this:
"I am sorry to say that your next step should be to ask yourself why you are considering getting rid of him. I am here to tell you that there is not a home for him, and his alternative to your keeping him is euthanasia. There are simply too many dogs flooding the shelters, 30% of them being Pit Bulls, and there are not enough people. People move and have kids every day and do not dispose of their animals because of it. Yes, the pets may get less attention, and yes, they may be a bit put out by it at times, but there are worse fates in life for a dog. Everyone I know who has kids say that their pets get less attention, but so what? They still have a great life compared to most dogs in the world, and surely better than dying in a shelter. That's certainly what will happen to him if taken to one. Most people who adopt from shelters want younger dogs so that they have more time with the dog. Besides, if taken to a shelter, Billy will more than likely be shellshocked because he has been in a home for so long. Won't you reconsider? Is there training help that you need? Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, but these are the cold hard facts, and I must believe that your situation can be remedied to provide a happy ending for everyone. Since we are currently full, the only other thing that I can offer is for my rescue to do a courtesy post for him online and see if we can find someone who wants to adopt an older dog. It does happen, but can sometimes take up to a year or more. Can you keep him while he's posted?
Again, sorry to be so blunt, but I have been doing Pit Bull rescue for 12 years, and this is the hard truth."
The response from Billy's owner was less than friendly:
"In no way did I read your entire email. I am unable to take Billy with us at this time and feel bad enough about it already. I AM A DOG/ANIMAL LOVER which is why I am seeking alternative means. I did not need a lecture on pet owning and responsibilities. In your and other's positions, it would be best to do what you do...HELP, not put on a guilt trip hoping situations would change.
Thanks for creating an even more anxiety ridden event."
Honestly, I'm torn on this one. If you had asked me six months ago, I would have 100% been on the dog's side, and thought the email from the rescue, while harsh, was absolutely true and necessary. I wouldn't have seen the owner's side at all. I would only see that the owner was trying to get rid of the dog in the easiest manner possible.
Now? Well, there are different levels of what people can handle, right? I've seen this firsthand. Maybe this person really couldn't handle a dog, a young child, and a new home, even though I can't imagine what they're thinking. Maybe they really do think that this is the only way out.
Then again, with the Humane Society no longer accepting strays, and only accepting surrenders after counseling (and even that is conditional), the reality really is that harsh. Maybe pet owners need to know that information instead of believing that Fluffy is going to find a great new home. Maybe she could do some searching on her own to see if someone she knows will take the dog. I've heard of plenty of people going that route instad of a shelter/rescue route. And the courtesy post? I mean, you've been housing the dog for this long....why not hold on to him a little longer if you think he might get adopted. It's certainly better than life at a shelter, right?
Thoughts?
"I have a staffordshire terrier I need to go to a good home. We have a young child, new home and are unable to take good care of him. He is 6 years old, white with tan spots, one brown-one blue eye. Billy is energetic and loving.
Please let me konw what my next steps would be, or where I can take him."
The head of the rescue responded like this:
"I am sorry to say that your next step should be to ask yourself why you are considering getting rid of him. I am here to tell you that there is not a home for him, and his alternative to your keeping him is euthanasia. There are simply too many dogs flooding the shelters, 30% of them being Pit Bulls, and there are not enough people. People move and have kids every day and do not dispose of their animals because of it. Yes, the pets may get less attention, and yes, they may be a bit put out by it at times, but there are worse fates in life for a dog. Everyone I know who has kids say that their pets get less attention, but so what? They still have a great life compared to most dogs in the world, and surely better than dying in a shelter. That's certainly what will happen to him if taken to one. Most people who adopt from shelters want younger dogs so that they have more time with the dog. Besides, if taken to a shelter, Billy will more than likely be shellshocked because he has been in a home for so long. Won't you reconsider? Is there training help that you need? Sorry to be the bearer of such bad news, but these are the cold hard facts, and I must believe that your situation can be remedied to provide a happy ending for everyone. Since we are currently full, the only other thing that I can offer is for my rescue to do a courtesy post for him online and see if we can find someone who wants to adopt an older dog. It does happen, but can sometimes take up to a year or more. Can you keep him while he's posted?
Again, sorry to be so blunt, but I have been doing Pit Bull rescue for 12 years, and this is the hard truth."
The response from Billy's owner was less than friendly:
"In no way did I read your entire email. I am unable to take Billy with us at this time and feel bad enough about it already. I AM A DOG/ANIMAL LOVER which is why I am seeking alternative means. I did not need a lecture on pet owning and responsibilities. In your and other's positions, it would be best to do what you do...HELP, not put on a guilt trip hoping situations would change.
Thanks for creating an even more anxiety ridden event."
Honestly, I'm torn on this one. If you had asked me six months ago, I would have 100% been on the dog's side, and thought the email from the rescue, while harsh, was absolutely true and necessary. I wouldn't have seen the owner's side at all. I would only see that the owner was trying to get rid of the dog in the easiest manner possible.
Now? Well, there are different levels of what people can handle, right? I've seen this firsthand. Maybe this person really couldn't handle a dog, a young child, and a new home, even though I can't imagine what they're thinking. Maybe they really do think that this is the only way out.
Then again, with the Humane Society no longer accepting strays, and only accepting surrenders after counseling (and even that is conditional), the reality really is that harsh. Maybe pet owners need to know that information instead of believing that Fluffy is going to find a great new home. Maybe she could do some searching on her own to see if someone she knows will take the dog. I've heard of plenty of people going that route instad of a shelter/rescue route. And the courtesy post? I mean, you've been housing the dog for this long....why not hold on to him a little longer if you think he might get adopted. It's certainly better than life at a shelter, right?
Thoughts?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Concept: Extraordinary, Implementation: Lackluster*
I hate mornings. I'm horrible at mornings. It's usually anger at the whole world that makes me a horrible person to be around first thing in the morning. I mean, why on earth would I want to be up, walking around, and on my way to work when I could be warm, snuggly and in bed? Hmmm??
So yesterday, when I was flipping through channels for background noise while getting ready, and I found this, I thought I had just stumbled upon the greatest invention ever. I seriously sat, mesmerized, in front of the TV for a good minute and a half before I made myself go take a shower. (My timetable in the mornings is tight enough as it is...I didn't need to be any later to work than I usually am.) Every time I came back into my room from the bathroom, I was greeted with tranquil views, crickets chirping, birds singing...the sun slowly rising. It was heaven. I had found my new favorite thing.
I did a little research, found out when it started, and last night, before going to sleep, I set the TV to Animal Planet and set the TV to turn on at 7:01am.
It was everything I had dreamed it would be. I awoke slowly to the sound of waves lapping on the shore, crickets and other insects chirping, the occasional bird call... It was fabulous. I was so happy. And then,
HEAD ON! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD! HEAD ON! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!
Um, yeah. So I forgot that there would be commercials. Not to mention commercials that would be at decibels TEN TIMES that of the programming they were interrupting. I almost threw my alarm clock at the TV. Actually, I DID throw my alarm clock at the TV. However, the alarm clock is plugged into the wall, and thus didn't really go where intended, which, now that I'm fully awake and not as angry, is a good thing.
So now there's this that has been added to my future Christmas/Birthday/Random Holiday wish list.
*Special thanks to bsj for the title of this post, and calling me out for watching reality TV. I believe he compared it to huffing glue...which is ironic, because that's exactly what I have to do to get through an episode with this man.
Wait, don't want to click the link? Okay. Here's the video for you.
So yesterday, when I was flipping through channels for background noise while getting ready, and I found this, I thought I had just stumbled upon the greatest invention ever. I seriously sat, mesmerized, in front of the TV for a good minute and a half before I made myself go take a shower. (My timetable in the mornings is tight enough as it is...I didn't need to be any later to work than I usually am.) Every time I came back into my room from the bathroom, I was greeted with tranquil views, crickets chirping, birds singing...the sun slowly rising. It was heaven. I had found my new favorite thing.
I did a little research, found out when it started, and last night, before going to sleep, I set the TV to Animal Planet and set the TV to turn on at 7:01am.
It was everything I had dreamed it would be. I awoke slowly to the sound of waves lapping on the shore, crickets and other insects chirping, the occasional bird call... It was fabulous. I was so happy. And then,
HEAD ON! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD! HEAD ON! APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD!
Um, yeah. So I forgot that there would be commercials. Not to mention commercials that would be at decibels TEN TIMES that of the programming they were interrupting. I almost threw my alarm clock at the TV. Actually, I DID throw my alarm clock at the TV. However, the alarm clock is plugged into the wall, and thus didn't really go where intended, which, now that I'm fully awake and not as angry, is a good thing.
So now there's this that has been added to my future Christmas/Birthday/Random Holiday wish list.
*Special thanks to bsj for the title of this post, and calling me out for watching reality TV. I believe he compared it to huffing glue...which is ironic, because that's exactly what I have to do to get through an episode with this man.
Wait, don't want to click the link? Okay. Here's the video for you.
Friday, May 09, 2008
Hello, my love
Now, I'm a recovered reality TV junkie. Let me just get that out of the way. Gone are days when I would just DIE if I missed the latest Survivor, or Amazing Race. Now, if it's on and I'm home - great! If not, meh. Part of that was school, part of that was the urge to get outside more often with my dogs... I even thought part of it was growing up.
I was wrong.
So, when things have been especially stressful lately with school and finals and moving and stuff, I have taken to catching up on my favorite TV shows during my lunch hour at work. (I need to say a quick 'thank you' to the Gods at NBC, CBS and ABC who stream entire episodes for me to watch when I've got a moment. I don't even mind the 30 second commercials. I can still watch the entire show and even have time left over to check my email. On the other hand, CW4? You suck. I'm not even going to link to you. Dropping the episode streaming because you think it will increase your ratings is backward thinking that should have gone out with the nineties. Welcome to the 21st century and way to take a step backwards. Not that I watch any of your shows anyway....especially not Gossip Girl. Ahem. I mean jeeze...even MTV streams the Hills for me! Um, not that I watch that either.)
But I digress.
I was bored one day and decided to catch up on an old favorite - Survivor. Survivor and I had broken up sometime around the time I left my last job from hell. I think that was...um....four years ago? Same ole' same ole', and I got bored. This season, well, it's online, I had free lunch hours when I could be studying. Done.
Ohmigod. Best. Season. Ever.
Seriously. I know reality TV is all about stereotypes. I get that. But I'm the kind of girl who watches Jerry Springer when she's home sick. It's just not that hard to entertain me. So this season? When there are evil women living up to every single stereotype about black widows that you can think of? Awesome. When they're preying on the innocent boys and ruthlessly backstabbing them while they continue o fall for the same plot over and over and over? Priceless. (Seriously, boys! You saw it happen to others, why would you be ANY different?!) Way to cast, CBS. Kudos to you. Even though I've watched every single episode online this season, I'll sure as hell be tuning into the finale on Sunday. I guess you get what you want after all.
So if you're interested in partaking a little Survivor drama, visit cbs.com and have fun. You only have to start at Episode 10 to enjoy the bulk of the drama.
PS. To all of you Lost fans, I've still not seen an episode. Not now, and not ever. They even have all the seasons up online. No thanks. It takes place on an island, people!! (ha ha...get the irony? no? nothing??)
PPS. I get no money from CBS for posting this. I just wanted to share my happiness with the Survivor brilliance this season. Even my happiness that Grey's Anatomy is back on the air can't equal my happiness about Survivor. (maybe it's because Grey's is slipping for me. Seriously. What's up with this McDreamy with another chick crap??)
I was wrong.
So, when things have been especially stressful lately with school and finals and moving and stuff, I have taken to catching up on my favorite TV shows during my lunch hour at work. (I need to say a quick 'thank you' to the Gods at NBC, CBS and ABC who stream entire episodes for me to watch when I've got a moment. I don't even mind the 30 second commercials. I can still watch the entire show and even have time left over to check my email. On the other hand, CW4? You suck. I'm not even going to link to you. Dropping the episode streaming because you think it will increase your ratings is backward thinking that should have gone out with the nineties. Welcome to the 21st century and way to take a step backwards. Not that I watch any of your shows anyway....especially not Gossip Girl. Ahem. I mean jeeze...even MTV streams the Hills for me! Um, not that I watch that either.)
But I digress.
I was bored one day and decided to catch up on an old favorite - Survivor. Survivor and I had broken up sometime around the time I left my last job from hell. I think that was...um....four years ago? Same ole' same ole', and I got bored. This season, well, it's online, I had free lunch hours when I could be studying. Done.
Ohmigod. Best. Season. Ever.
Seriously. I know reality TV is all about stereotypes. I get that. But I'm the kind of girl who watches Jerry Springer when she's home sick. It's just not that hard to entertain me. So this season? When there are evil women living up to every single stereotype about black widows that you can think of? Awesome. When they're preying on the innocent boys and ruthlessly backstabbing them while they continue o fall for the same plot over and over and over? Priceless. (Seriously, boys! You saw it happen to others, why would you be ANY different?!) Way to cast, CBS. Kudos to you. Even though I've watched every single episode online this season, I'll sure as hell be tuning into the finale on Sunday. I guess you get what you want after all.
So if you're interested in partaking a little Survivor drama, visit cbs.com and have fun. You only have to start at Episode 10 to enjoy the bulk of the drama.
PS. To all of you Lost fans, I've still not seen an episode. Not now, and not ever. They even have all the seasons up online. No thanks. It takes place on an island, people!! (ha ha...get the irony? no? nothing??)
PPS. I get no money from CBS for posting this. I just wanted to share my happiness with the Survivor brilliance this season. Even my happiness that Grey's Anatomy is back on the air can't equal my happiness about Survivor. (maybe it's because Grey's is slipping for me. Seriously. What's up with this McDreamy with another chick crap??)
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Voting Blue in a Red State
So since the Indiana primary actually seems to matter this year, there was a really long line at my polling place yesterday morning. This lead me to decide to vote after work instead. I left work a little early, noted the beautiful weather, and decided that, since the polling place was only a little over a mile from my apartment, I would combine voting with walking the dogs.
I initially contemplated making a shirt for Blue that read "Vote for Hillary... or else" but then decided that A) I was the only one who would find that funny and B) Blue's too cute to be threatening.
(Side note: I received another request from someone about adopting Blue... and it would make sense if it's a good home. But then...I love Blue. So if you wouldn't mind, any reminders about why I'm not crazy to move into a teeny tiny house with two pit bulls would be appreciated...)
Right - so I go vote. (You should have seen those people with candidate signs scatter as I approached...tee hee hee...) Afterwards, noting the beautiful weather and the energy of my dogs, I decided to take a longer walk than usual. So I headed towards a neighborhood that I had never seen before near the polling place.
Two hours later, we got home.
I got lost.
For those of you who know me (and remember that I got lost on a circular path before) this is not a surprise. But, in an effort to highlight the absurdity of it all, let me point out here that the new neighborhood was MAYBE a mile away from where I live. Maybe. And it was off of a major street. (Which I could HEAR but COULD NOT GET BACK TO. It was all very stressful.) In my defense, I kept turning right in an effort to go in a big loop, but then I hit a dead end and my plan went to hell. Then it became, "well, this looks familiar...maybe this way?" and "I definitely recognize that house. Let's go that way."
Damn those curvy streets. Who deviates from the basic grid system when setting up a neighborhood?? And who puts PONDS in the middle of neighborhoods with no path to get around them?
(Let us all keep this little trait of Emily's in mind the next time she wants to live a block away from ghetto hell, shall we? Emily tends to forget little details like this when she is enamored with 2500 square feet and a finished basement.)
The walk was before dinner, so the dogs were understandably pissed when we got home - pulling me the entire way once they saw the apartment complex. (I think they got the most angry when I realized that I did not have my cell phone with me and could not call their dad...so I was on my own to get us home. Since I speak these random thoughts out loud, I'm sure they understood me.) The bonus was that everyone had a very relaxed evening on the couch with the Cubs game.
When it was time to walk this morning, Blue came out, had a nice big stretch, and looked at me as though to say, "Seriously?" He then proceeded to roll over to have his belly scratched instead of walking to the door. When I explained that he needed to go out and he would thank me later, he heaved a HUGE sigh and rolled onto his side with the most pathetic expression...until Casey walked over and bit his ear. Then he got up and came to the door with her. True story.
Anyway, the purpose of this post was to put a cute little story before actually stating the obvious that, yes, the boy and I are moving into separate residences in June, yes, it's a breakup, but yes we are on friendly terms, and yes, it was my decision. No, I'm not ruling out the idea of possibly dating once we live in separate residences, no, this is not an easy decision and no, I'm not 100% convinced I'm doing the right thing. For now, we won't call an end to the cohabitation experiment....just a hiatus. (Don't tell my mom.)
I initially contemplated making a shirt for Blue that read "Vote for Hillary... or else" but then decided that A) I was the only one who would find that funny and B) Blue's too cute to be threatening.
(Side note: I received another request from someone about adopting Blue... and it would make sense if it's a good home. But then...I love Blue. So if you wouldn't mind, any reminders about why I'm not crazy to move into a teeny tiny house with two pit bulls would be appreciated...)
Right - so I go vote. (You should have seen those people with candidate signs scatter as I approached...tee hee hee...) Afterwards, noting the beautiful weather and the energy of my dogs, I decided to take a longer walk than usual. So I headed towards a neighborhood that I had never seen before near the polling place.
Two hours later, we got home.
I got lost.
For those of you who know me (and remember that I got lost on a circular path before) this is not a surprise. But, in an effort to highlight the absurdity of it all, let me point out here that the new neighborhood was MAYBE a mile away from where I live. Maybe. And it was off of a major street. (Which I could HEAR but COULD NOT GET BACK TO. It was all very stressful.) In my defense, I kept turning right in an effort to go in a big loop, but then I hit a dead end and my plan went to hell. Then it became, "well, this looks familiar...maybe this way?" and "I definitely recognize that house. Let's go that way."
Damn those curvy streets. Who deviates from the basic grid system when setting up a neighborhood?? And who puts PONDS in the middle of neighborhoods with no path to get around them?
(Let us all keep this little trait of Emily's in mind the next time she wants to live a block away from ghetto hell, shall we? Emily tends to forget little details like this when she is enamored with 2500 square feet and a finished basement.)
The walk was before dinner, so the dogs were understandably pissed when we got home - pulling me the entire way once they saw the apartment complex. (I think they got the most angry when I realized that I did not have my cell phone with me and could not call their dad...so I was on my own to get us home. Since I speak these random thoughts out loud, I'm sure they understood me.) The bonus was that everyone had a very relaxed evening on the couch with the Cubs game.
When it was time to walk this morning, Blue came out, had a nice big stretch, and looked at me as though to say, "Seriously?" He then proceeded to roll over to have his belly scratched instead of walking to the door. When I explained that he needed to go out and he would thank me later, he heaved a HUGE sigh and rolled onto his side with the most pathetic expression...until Casey walked over and bit his ear. Then he got up and came to the door with her. True story.
Anyway, the purpose of this post was to put a cute little story before actually stating the obvious that, yes, the boy and I are moving into separate residences in June, yes, it's a breakup, but yes we are on friendly terms, and yes, it was my decision. No, I'm not ruling out the idea of possibly dating once we live in separate residences, no, this is not an easy decision and no, I'm not 100% convinced I'm doing the right thing. For now, we won't call an end to the cohabitation experiment....just a hiatus. (Don't tell my mom.)
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Things I worry about
Sleeping alone for the first time in two years
Whether or not I'm making a horrible mistake
How I'm going to pay off the nice little credit card debt I accumulated from Machu Picchu.
What grade I got in Chemistry this semester.
How I'm going to find it in my tired soul to play nice with my new sister-in-law at future family functions.
The divine Ms. Em.
How Casey hasn't had a seizure in almost three months, and how the move might trigger one.
Where I'm going to find the motivation to lose weight this year
How many times I'll have to visit my hometown this summer to make up for the semester when I didn't have to go once.
How I can go and see all of my friends and family in every corner of the US and still afford food.
What my parents think about the path my life is taking
What a B means to my future
Whether or not I'm making a horrible mistake. (yes, I know that's on there twice.)
Whether or not I'm making a horrible mistake
How I'm going to pay off the nice little credit card debt I accumulated from Machu Picchu.
What grade I got in Chemistry this semester.
How I'm going to find it in my tired soul to play nice with my new sister-in-law at future family functions.
The divine Ms. Em.
How Casey hasn't had a seizure in almost three months, and how the move might trigger one.
Where I'm going to find the motivation to lose weight this year
How many times I'll have to visit my hometown this summer to make up for the semester when I didn't have to go once.
How I can go and see all of my friends and family in every corner of the US and still afford food.
What my parents think about the path my life is taking
What a B means to my future
Whether or not I'm making a horrible mistake. (yes, I know that's on there twice.)
Monday, May 05, 2008
Isn't it, like, Mexican Thanksgiving or Something?*
Oh my God I'm done with finals.
Oh my GOD I'm done with the semester.
I'm done with school for three and a half blessed months.
I couldn't be happier, obviously. I don't even have my final grades yet, and I don't even care. As my wise friend Jess stated, "It's in God's hands now." I agree. I am done. Done done.
So yesterday, I parked myself on the couch with MTV's usual ANTM marathon (season 7 which I actually hadn't seen yet - BONUS!) and a dog. It was a gorgeous day outside and I didn't see any of it. I've got the rest of the summer to enjoy the weather. Sunday was all about relaxing, cheese, bread and wine. Lots and lots of wine. (It would have been beer, but I didn't think ahead. Thanks Indiana. Your laws regarding alcoholic sales blow.)
Now I focus on finding a new abode. I believe that when I last touched on this subject, I had House #5 and #6 as possibilities. Of course, I'm moving into neither of them.
So when I went to see House #5 for real (as opposed to just pictures) I realized that the owner of House #5 really REALLY loved her house. I was with my friend Dave, and about 5 minutes into her tour of the house, I could have very easily said something along the lines of, "It's been nice meeting you, but I'm not interested. Thank you for your time." Her tour was all about crown moldings, carriage lights above the fireplace, the $10,000 she had just spent to put in new windows, or the "eight five zero zero - that's eighty five HUNDRED dollars" that her property taxes had risen in the last year. She was also quick to tell me about the trust fund babies who had rented her house in the past. The word "pretentious" comes to mind. The house WAS beautiful. And Dave did agree that it was $200 better than any house we had seen previously with the garage and the finished basement.... But still. All I could see were the future "surprise" stop bys when the house wouldn't be up to her levels of cleanliness. No thank you. It wasn't a problem though. When she asked about my dogs, and I said the words "pit bulls" she SHUT DOWN. Apparently those dogs do not fit into her framework for an ideal tenant. Meh. I definitely broke up with her first.
I was all set on House #6. I called the maintenance guy to find out exactly what date it would be available, and to confirm the final rent which was exactly what I budgeted to spend on rent.
And then one of my boss's tenants called and gave notice. He was going to be out at the end of May. The half double that he was renting is in an okay neighborhood (about a mile from my old sorority house, if you can believe it) and the rent was $265 less than House #6. Emily again has a dilemma. A dilemma she chose to put off until after finals. She failed.
I went to see it and it's small. SMALL. Much of my furniture (dining room table, bookcase, chest of drawers) will have to be put in the basement for storage since there's just not room for it on the main level. And it's an old house. OLD. Old with no air conditioning. But let's talk about the pros.
Um, I'm saving $265/month. That's the biggie. There's a fenced in yard. (Sure, the fence looks like it will blow over any minute, but my dogs won't charge it....it's more symbolic for them and me. I just need somewhere to throw a tennis ball sometimes.) It's got a garage. (Detached, sure, but a detached garage is better than no garage.) I can still ride my bike to work. (I don't know how much of a pro that will be about halfway into the summer...but for now, let's go with it.) I also happen to be well acquainted with the landlord. And with some TLC, it could go from an old house to a cute little house. We'll see what I can do.
When push came to shove, I just couldn't get over saving $265/month when tuition is costing me ~$200/credit hour. So even though I'm really bad at making places seem "homey" or "cozy" I've got great friends who are good at that kind of stuff, and they say they'll help me out. I may have to purchase curtains for the first time in my life. And maybe I'll even paint. For now, though - does anyone have any creative ideas for where to put the cat's litterbox? (No - there's not enough room in the bathroom, and the dogs are already going to have daytime residence in the basement.)
I'll post pictures eventually. Or maybe not. Depends on how well I do on the "homey" part.
*A friend of mine actually asked me that when I suggested we go get chips and queso (with a margarita) for lunch because it's Cinco de Mayo.
Oh my GOD I'm done with the semester.
I'm done with school for three and a half blessed months.
I couldn't be happier, obviously. I don't even have my final grades yet, and I don't even care. As my wise friend Jess stated, "It's in God's hands now." I agree. I am done. Done done.
So yesterday, I parked myself on the couch with MTV's usual ANTM marathon (season 7 which I actually hadn't seen yet - BONUS!) and a dog. It was a gorgeous day outside and I didn't see any of it. I've got the rest of the summer to enjoy the weather. Sunday was all about relaxing, cheese, bread and wine. Lots and lots of wine. (It would have been beer, but I didn't think ahead. Thanks Indiana. Your laws regarding alcoholic sales blow.)
Now I focus on finding a new abode. I believe that when I last touched on this subject, I had House #5 and #6 as possibilities. Of course, I'm moving into neither of them.
So when I went to see House #5 for real (as opposed to just pictures) I realized that the owner of House #5 really REALLY loved her house. I was with my friend Dave, and about 5 minutes into her tour of the house, I could have very easily said something along the lines of, "It's been nice meeting you, but I'm not interested. Thank you for your time." Her tour was all about crown moldings, carriage lights above the fireplace, the $10,000 she had just spent to put in new windows, or the "eight five zero zero - that's eighty five HUNDRED dollars" that her property taxes had risen in the last year. She was also quick to tell me about the trust fund babies who had rented her house in the past. The word "pretentious" comes to mind. The house WAS beautiful. And Dave did agree that it was $200 better than any house we had seen previously with the garage and the finished basement.... But still. All I could see were the future "surprise" stop bys when the house wouldn't be up to her levels of cleanliness. No thank you. It wasn't a problem though. When she asked about my dogs, and I said the words "pit bulls" she SHUT DOWN. Apparently those dogs do not fit into her framework for an ideal tenant. Meh. I definitely broke up with her first.
I was all set on House #6. I called the maintenance guy to find out exactly what date it would be available, and to confirm the final rent which was exactly what I budgeted to spend on rent.
And then one of my boss's tenants called and gave notice. He was going to be out at the end of May. The half double that he was renting is in an okay neighborhood (about a mile from my old sorority house, if you can believe it) and the rent was $265 less than House #6. Emily again has a dilemma. A dilemma she chose to put off until after finals. She failed.
I went to see it and it's small. SMALL. Much of my furniture (dining room table, bookcase, chest of drawers) will have to be put in the basement for storage since there's just not room for it on the main level. And it's an old house. OLD. Old with no air conditioning. But let's talk about the pros.
Um, I'm saving $265/month. That's the biggie. There's a fenced in yard. (Sure, the fence looks like it will blow over any minute, but my dogs won't charge it....it's more symbolic for them and me. I just need somewhere to throw a tennis ball sometimes.) It's got a garage. (Detached, sure, but a detached garage is better than no garage.) I can still ride my bike to work. (I don't know how much of a pro that will be about halfway into the summer...but for now, let's go with it.) I also happen to be well acquainted with the landlord. And with some TLC, it could go from an old house to a cute little house. We'll see what I can do.
When push came to shove, I just couldn't get over saving $265/month when tuition is costing me ~$200/credit hour. So even though I'm really bad at making places seem "homey" or "cozy" I've got great friends who are good at that kind of stuff, and they say they'll help me out. I may have to purchase curtains for the first time in my life. And maybe I'll even paint. For now, though - does anyone have any creative ideas for where to put the cat's litterbox? (No - there's not enough room in the bathroom, and the dogs are already going to have daytime residence in the basement.)
I'll post pictures eventually. Or maybe not. Depends on how well I do on the "homey" part.
*A friend of mine actually asked me that when I suggested we go get chips and queso (with a margarita) for lunch because it's Cinco de Mayo.
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