The End of the Road

Wow, I think this is the longest that I have ever gone without posting on this blog. I can tell you that things continue to go well in my life (thankfully) and that I'm still on-track with my plan to be living in Europe before the end of the year. I doubt that this blog with come with me. And I must admit that I don't have the pull to publish as I once did. Instead, I'd rather write in my journal or chat with a friend.

I'm definitely not the first person to disappear from the blogosphere. Nor will I be the last. It has been a fun, worthwhile experience but I sense that I'm getting toward the end of my short stint as a blogger.

So that is all for now. I just wanted to post before the end of the month and let it be known that I'm still here. I will definitely craft some final post, when the time is right. Until then, expect haphazard posts on France and how I'm trying to make my last few months in DC truly memorable.

Back from the Brink

I almost died this weekend. Perhaps, that is an exaggeration but I blacked out at least twice on my way from the kitchen to my room early Saturday morning after the most unforgettable night of developing a "special relationship with my toilet" (thanks, A-M).

I’m blaming the almonds that my mother sent me though it could have easily been the peanut butter sandwich or veggie chili that I ate Friday. I’ve had food poisoning once before. It was about three years ago as a result of bad food/water at a work retreat in West Virginia. On that occasion, several people got sick. This time, it was just me. It was lonely not having anyone to commiserate with. Thankfully, I had just gone to the library and I was well-stocked with movies and books to comfort and distract me from my digestive tract. Floyd was a lifesaver as well.

A bruise on my shoulder, an almost healed-cut on my lip, and slight stomach unease are the only reminders of this weekend's unfortunate turn of events. I am still upset that all the glorious plans I had for this weekend were shattered. As part of my carpe diem in 2010 outlook, I had packed my weekend with an improv class, girl’s night, sleepover, volunteer opportunity, and NGA movie. Needless to say, I didn’t leave my house all weekend other than to crawl to the store for Gatorade.

I am thankful that I’m alive. I totally could have hit my head when I blacked out and fell (in the living room and on the stairs!). I was all very alarming. I am very thankful for all that my body does to protect me from harm. And even more thankful that it has the power to heal.

Subletters Suck

My roommate, who will be out of town for work and vacation all of December, decided to get a subletter for her room. I was fine with her getting a subletter and very hands-off during her search process. I figured that it would only be for one month and as long as the person didn’t steal our stuff or trash the house, I could live with whoever she chose. Boy, was I wrong.

It’s only been a few days, but I am itching for our subletter to leave. I don’t know why he irks me so much. It’s probably the fact that he’s interrupted the house’s routine—my routine. No longer can I come home from work to a quiet house before my other roommates make it home around 730. He’s always there. No longer can I sit in front of the cable TV and eat my dinner. He’s always there watching basketball. Tuesday and yesterday, I asked for his help in picking up the mouse traps. He declined. I’m proud that I was able successfully got rid of the smashed critter on my own but I was furiously puzzled that he wasn’t helpful. Isn’t that what males do for squeamish females like me?

I also find him weird. On the first two nights, I tried to make small talk. It was so awkward that I eventually gave up. I’m not the most sociable person out there, so I won’t talk just for the sake of making you feel comfortable and welcome if you are not taking the bait.

He and my other male roommate seem to get along fine. So it’s just me with the problem (per usual…).

I am a creature of habit and familiarity. Anything or anyone that diverges from my sense of normalcy tends to be instantly disliked, distrusted, and even hated (I’ll comment my reaction to my new workmates some other time). I’ve already started counting down the days until he departs and my old roommate returns. I hope that I am able to keep my cool and my distance until them.

Mouse Saga Sidebar

Last night was better in terms of the mouse situation because a) I was exhausted; b) all my roommates were home and making noise; and c) I've learned how to sleep with the lights and Univision on.

Here is something a friend sent me that made me laugh. Perhaps, this could be considered a humane mouse trap or at least a more respectful one.

Mouse update

I have officially lost my mind. I did not sleep last night. Whenever I would finally get settled, I would hear fidgetting in the corner of my room and jump up in alarm and grab something to throw. My mom told me to block the possible hole behind the radiator to bar the mouse's reentry. Unfortunately, that probably just trapped him in my room and made him freak out more.

By 3 am I gave up on sleep. I turned on all the lights (cfls, but still an inexcusable global warming impact) and the television. To distract myself, I did more mouse research followed by a quick kayak search of hotel rates. Unbelievably, I managed to stay up until 6 by watching univision and looking a clothes online (though I was derangedly jumping at every noise and shadow I sensed). Then, I finally calmed down and there was no more rustling. By 7, my roommate was up making noise and I was able to drift off to sleep before my alarm woke me up 30 minutes later.

As you can imagine, I'm tired and in a sour mood. I spent the morning inspecting the corners of my room and cleaning the kitchen (where mice definitely frequent). I am off to find traps for my room now and I am debating whether I will attempt another night of craziness (maybe I should buy ear plugs--though I guess that wouldn't curb my mouse dreams). Or I will request a corner in Shimmy-Shimmy house. Or I will break down and get a hotel room like my mother advised (she's even ready to come up and move me into a new place). I love my home but I am a wreck. That is unacceptable. I doubt sleeping on a friend's floor or a fluffy hotel bed will give me any peace of mind when I know that a mouse/mice are moving into my sanctuary.

Mice

Here I am sitting in my room afraid to turn off the lights, afraid of bedtime, afraid of quiet. I wish I was on my way to NC tonight (sorry A-M!).

I knew that it was only a matter of time. It's getting cooler outside and my housemates and I have been so busy that we've been less than careful about scrubbing down the counters and sweeping the floors. That is no excuse, but it is an explanation.

So, my house officially has a mouse problem. An exterminator came on Wednesday and noted that he found myriad holes near our house. He said that there was recently a major extermination a few houses down. I guess the whole family packed up and moved in. He said he didn't want to do anything until he talked to our landlady because it would be a major job ($$$). That made me worry but it wasn't unexpected.

For a while, I've heard scurrying between the walls. I thought that I was going crazy but it has woken me up on several occasions (horrid nightmares!). Finally, my roommate heard them as well. Now, I am certain of what I hear: a metal door (?) opening and closing, followed by scurrying in the walls in my room and in the ceiling. I can only imagine that one day the ceiling will fall, revealing a thousand beady eyes.

I saw a mouse in the kitchen earlier this week and now I fear that its cousin is in my bedroom. Although I cleaned my room earlier this week, I left a slightly exposed bar of chocolate out last night. I didn't wrap it as carefully as I should have given that our place is probably a multi-mouse family home. Today, I found my beautiful Ghirardelli Midnight Delight gnawed at the end. Gross. I believe that it came through the hole behind the radiator. Given all that I've read on the web about mice, it doesn't seem like much can deter them. They can squeeze into spaces a quarter of an inch wide, leap into the air, and crawl up vertical spaces. No wonder it was able to get at the delectable treat on my nightstand.

I am tempted to crash at a friend's house or check into a hotel tonight. If only Gray Cat wasn't the carrier of an unknown infection, he'd be sitting right next to me right now. I am utterly grossed out, afraid, and angry at myself. If only I had wrapped that chocolate bar last night. I've broken my no-food-in-the-bedroom rule over the past months and now I am facing the consequences. My roommates eat in their rooms, but they've never reported any problems. Just me.

At the same time, this problem is a whole house problem. We've had mice in the kitchen since I arrived and my landlady recalled an infestation years ago owing to the basement tenant's storage of many bags of dry dog food.

So why the fuck is our landlady taking so long about hiring someone to destroy every creature that has more than two legs in our house (especially now that the exterminator expects a major infestation)? I believe in humane killing but in this situation--where I know a successful extermination in our house will merely result in emigration to a neighbor's house--I say bring on the poison. Kill them all.

Okay, now back to making lots of noise and debating whether I should sleep on my futon or a friend's floor. The problem is that I can't sleep on someone's floor or in a hotel until my landlady finally decides to hire an exterminator and he is able to work his magic on them.

Ugh.

Tengo Frio

So here is the prerequisite whiny blog about the changing weather. I feel that I’ve spent way too many entries over the years complaining—about the weather, my love life (or lack thereof), my annoying roommates, etc. But where else would I complain if not on my blog? So here goes:

It is so cold outside! Where did the fall and its gradual cooling go? I’ve added a new layer to my bed each night this week and I’m thinking about digging up my thermals for this weekend. My shared house is so drafty and I don’t think that we plan on activating the radiator just yet.

After years of complaining about the winter and promising that I wouldn’t spend another year in DC, here I am again. I should either stop complaining and accept that if I want to live and work in the land of federal policy opportunity, I have to deal with being cold. Or I can finally move to Miami. Then, I’d have beautifully warm/hot weather all year long. Hurricanes are nothing as long as I don’t have to face months of cold, windy and damp walks home from the metro in the dark (you know the sun sets by 5 pm around December).

So this marks the end of my social life until the spring. I rarely leave my house after sunset when it is cold. It was a good summer and spring and I look forward to peeling off the layers and applying only one, thin layer of lotion in a mere 6 months.

For all you Northerners and winter-lovers out there, say what you will. I am from the South and anything below 70-75 degrees is chilly.

A Mouse

I don’t recall if I’ve shared my experience with critters in my new place. My last shared house did not have many critter issues. My new place does. It’s an old house. Plus, it is probably our fault given that we like to keep certain windows open and the front and back door open to create an indoor breeze.

Regardless, this week, I got my first glimpse of the mini-mouse (No, not Minnie Mouse. That would be cool) that inhabits our kitchen. When I first moved in, my roommates warned me that there had been mouse sightings in the kitchen. So, I was prepared to keep things clean and make a lot of noise in the kitchen to keep it at bay. It worked until this week.

I was washing dishes at the sink—grooving along to Beyonce or whatever was playing on the radio, when a tiny mouse appeared at the sink. I screamed bloody murder and froze as it quickly scurried behind the faucet and made for the crack between the counter and the oven. I’ve seen street rats and dead mice before, but never a live mouse. It was cute, I guess. But it has to go. (The only exception to my “no critters in the house rule” is for spiders because they tend to keep everything else away.)

Last night, my roommate set a humane trap for the mouse and volunteered to release it whenever it is caught. I do believe in animal rights but I prefer the old-fashion trap. It’s cheap and allows for a quicker death—compared to awful glue traps or environmentally unsound poison. Plus, isn’t it less humane to release it into our neighborhood which is teaming with stray cats, fast cars, and unknown food supplies? And, I’m sure that there is a mouse family leaving there. So we’re basically kidnapping the breadwinner and leaving the babies to die from starvation. Or worse, a new family will move in. I’m tempted to invite gray cat into the house to take care of it as that seems like the most natural end. But first, I need to resolve gray cat’s unidentified health issues.

The Cats

Monday evening was almost out of a Hitchcock film. I arrived home a little later than normal. I checked for Gray Cat but didn’t see him. So I decided to put out some food anyway, knowing that he’d always had a way of showing up a few minutes after I or my roommate came home.

Soon after pouring the normal serving of Iams (yes, after consulting with Celestyn, I was guilted into buying the “nicer” stuff), a white and brown cat that I’ve never seen before appeared on the porch. I shrugged and let him at the dish, figuring that enough would be left for the Gray Cat. An hour or so later, my roommate came home and commented that two cats (including Gray Cat) were on the porch looking for food. I told her that I already put food out and went to the door to check the situation for myself.

I found three cats at the front door looking in at me through the glass. At first, I was moved---they really are cute in a scraggly sort of way. But then, when I saw another cat walking onto the porch I started to freak out. It was a little too reminiscent of “The Birds.” A row of cats looking through the glass door while at least one other cat paced behind them.

I am heartless. Ignoring their expectant, hungry stares, I turned the lights out and went upstairs.

I couldn’t imagine filling a single bowl with food to be shared by four or more hungry cats. Plus, I don’t like the idea of feeding every stray in my ‘hood. I just don’t have the money to buy that much cat food. Plus, I don’t think that my neighbors or roommates would appreciate it if I turned our front porch into stray cat central.

So, I will continue to feed and take care of Gray Cat. I will probably even take him to the vet soon as he seems sick. But I can’t go out of my way to help out the others. It is sad that there are so many stray and feral cats in my area. I can only hope that the other houses in my neighborhood are continuing to feed them and that organizations like Alley Cat Allies continue to exist.

Little Terrors

I guess it makes me an old fogy, but I don’t understand kids today.

Tonight, I sat on my front porch, enjoying the cool night air and waiting for “Gray Cat” to arrive. There were a trio of teenagers across the street playing/terrorizing a dog and eventually they started standing on one of the cars. At first, I figured the dog got lose and they wanted to get out the way. But when they kept jumping on and off the car's hood and roof and then, doing the same to my neighbor's car, I decided to step in and give them a piece of my mind.

I don’t know on what planet it is okay to jump on someone’s car. Again, I would totally understand it if you were being chased by a rabid dog, but seriously, wtf. I find myself saying that a lot when I stroll around my neighborhood. The teenage girls with their baby strollers drive me absolutely crazy. These kids need a reality check. I’d prefer it to come from a stern grandmother/older sibling/teacher, but instead it often comes from a brush with death, jail time or the reality of providing for a child when you are child.

First, let me say that the immaturity and delusionment extends beyond my DC hood. It is in suburban NoVA and MD, just in a different form.

I am tired of rolling my eyes at the ignorance and bad choices of the kids in my neighborhood and elsewhere. Seeing their excess, disregard and ignorance makes me wonder if the future as suggested by “Idiocracy” really is a possibility.

Of course, I blame the parents for indulging/ignoring their kids. But I recognize that "it takes a village" to ensure that a child stays on the right path. Tonight was a reminder that I simply must start volunteering with kids again. And it called to mind the old Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes' line:

The world won't get no better if we just let it be
The world won't get no better we gotta change it yeah, just you and me.

Almost-30 Anxiety

I am so anxious these days. It is like I haven’t been able to relax in months. Even though it is recess, I am stressed at work. Plus, I have put so much pressure on myself to get my non-work life in line.

The trouble is that work consumes my life and the little precious, off-time I have is relegated to everyday errands, catching up on sleep and using the remaining time for personal pursuits like fitness and hobbies.

It is almost mid-August, and I feel that I haven’t been taking advantage of the city and the summer. I guess I feel that I’m in a rut but I don’t think that it is a rut.

Maybe, it’s the “OMG, I’m almost 30” blues. Which just means that I’m anxious about taking advantage of all that life offers before it’s “too late” and I get “too old.” I guesss I should blame it on my upcoming 10th high school reunion. It reminds me that there is so much that I want to do before I turn 30. But the fact that I’m so dead-set on pursuing my Hill and political career as far as it will go precludes me from pursuing two of my other major “in-my-20s” goals: living in NYC and abroad. So I guess I’m coming up to a turning point in life. In the next two years, I will have to decide if I truly want to settle down in D.C. (my decision back in February) or if I want to try something totally different and move to NYC or Europe to do what, I don’t know.

The bottom-line is that nothing and no one is holding me back but myself which is awesome and scary—and leaves me feeling anxious.

Final Hippo-Floyd Saga Update

I feel the need to send out an update to my loyal readers after my last blog.

I am doing fine. I was obviously very emotional on Sunday and Monday, but now I am doing better. I am in the same state I was before Floyd visited, but now the reality that there is no us is a bit more vivid in my mind, which is good. The perk is that now whenever I think about him or am tempted to contact him, I remember the revelation he shared on Sunday. He is ready to date again, specifically a woman who lives in Fairfax. That keeps me from fantasizing about how I can get him back and reminds me that I can’t be his friend (someone who’s happy that he’s found someone new) until I get over him. He won the “breakup contest” and that adds a wound to my vanity as well as my heart. I need to start healing both now.

This is my last post about Floyd. There is nothing else to write about that I haven’t already shared. And he’s no longer in my life. Hopefully, one day we’ll be friends and he will read my blog again (with my blessing) and I will write about how great of friends we are. But until then, there is no need.

Instead, I want to write about the awesomeness of my work and social lives---things are really good. It’s crazy that as soon as I start excelling and find peace in the other parts of my life, my love life falls apart.

I look forward to when I can finally write about a happy and exciting dating/love life. I must admit that Organica’s excitement about being young and single is intoxicating. She is right that the time to get out, explore and have fun is now. I don’t want to regret not living it up more in my twenties. Now without Floyd, I have the ability to do whatever I want without having to worry about what Floyd would say or what it means in terms of a relationship with him. I can date/love/fool around with anyone. I can pack up and move across the country or world whenever I want. It is scary but exhilarating to be so free.

I think Organica’s youthful optimism about love and boys is just the perspective I need to hear this summer, as I work to finally move on and reestablish myself as Hippo + none.

Neighborhood Watch

Over the weekend, I witness petty theft from my front porch. I watch a guy break into a car and grab a black bag from the front seat. I stood up and watched him. I let him see me and yelled, "You better start running, because I'm calling the cops. Good luck." I called 911 and reported the crime. The female operator seemed as confused as I felt incredulous by witness the brazen act.

About 5-10 minutes later, the cops showed up. They seemed less than enthusiastic about answering my call. I told them to keep an eye out on my house since the burglar might decide to come back to bother me. They gave me some bull about not being able to watch my house. That's fine; just watch my neighborhood so that random acts like that don't happen on what should have been a lazy day of sitting on my front porch.

Several hours later, the owner of the car showed up. It turns out that nothing of value was in the black bag that was stolen. Most troubling for me is that he refused to call the cops. If nothing else, his insurance company would need a police report before paying for a new window. He spoke in broken English with a very heavy accent. So maybe he was afraid of interacting with the police (no insurance, no green card, the car is stolen, etc). Who knows.

I've decided to sit on the front porch every evening to keep an eye on my neighborhood. I want those bastard thieves, murderers, rapists, and other hoodlums to know that I'm watching them and I don't have a problem calling the police if things get out of hand.

Now that I've scanned the DC police department crime statistic map, my guard will be up even more than before. Sure, the hoodlums can have the $10 in my wallet but they won't be harming me or my friends without a fight. Next up, self defense class and I've even starting to think about the benefits of a gun. [gasp!] I never thought I would ever think about the value of a gun but I'm a treehugging hippie who is pissed and itching to take back her street and her 'hood.

Taped Glasses

I feel like such a nerd today. I stepped on my glasses last night and despite all my attempts to bend/rescrew the left arm back into place, the frame's arm just won't return to normal.

I dug up an old pair that are still stylish and functional as back up but I am determined to wear my updated pair, lest the weaker prescription lead to eye strain.

This morning, I applied some clear packing tape to the left arm. It worked, sort of. So I applied some more. Now, I have a wad of clear tape on my glasses that I can't seem to take off without totally destroying whatever connection is barely keeping the frame arm attached.

Of course, I'm thankful that I didn't break the lens or crack the frame in half, but I feel so stupid walking around with tape on my glasses. I would place it under the "not attractive to boys" category.

White House Tour

What an amazing treat on the eve of my birthday. Today, I had the opportunity to take a White House tour. I totally lucked out on an extra ticket and I plan to get an thank card to the person who made it possible asap.

It was surreal to see the West Wing. Unfortunately, we weren't able to see the residence but we saw the blue room, the green room, navy mess, press room, oval office, rose garden, etc. It was truly awesome. I was both overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the tour. I was overwhelmed by the furniture, portraits, artifacts and the slight views I could catch of the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial. I was underwhelmed by the size of some of the rooms (TV cameras can be so deceiving!) and the fact that it felt like a normal office space. I know that I'm not making sense. The bottom line is that it was an amazing experience and I can only hope to visit the WH again for another tour, a VIP meeting, or, perhaps one day, for my first day on the job.

Urgh!

Almost every young Hill staffer has the fear of being overheard divulging office secrets in the elevator or of being caught in the middle of a Member photo-op. For that reason, I always try to avoid Members, VIPs, and camera crews like the plague, and I am always tight-lipped around folks.

Last week, cameras were swarming the halls and I was unlucky enough to be caught in a published picture next to a few Members. It is a bad picture and I look obviously uncomfortable. I can clearly remember trying to scurry away from the scene, but was blocked by a gaggle of chatting Members. The look on my face is obviously that of distress--last week was nothing but stressful.

For the record, I officially hate my profile now.

Fine Lines

I see them.

A few around my eyes and a growing collection on my forehead. They say that "black don't crack" but I am seeing evidence of major, future wrinkles.

Since I turn 28 in a few weeks, I guess it is okay for me to start using wrinkle creams but I don't know if I will ever opt for Botox, skin rejuvenation, a face lift, or whatever else will be on the market when I hit 40.

I like to think that I am a low-maintenance, natural woman who embraces her imperfections, but the impact of aging on a woman's body is too much for me. I don't want saggy boobs, a flabby neck, a hunchback, frown lines, or sunspotted skin. But I know that it is on the way and there is little that I can do.

I don't want to be the weird lady who has clearly had work done--who can't smile or whose hands/neck/belly belies her plumped, radiant face. I want to love my wrinkles and see them as beautiful signs of maturity. But I don't know how to get out of our society’s youth-obsessed mentality so that I can embrace and love my aging/decaying body.

She didn't press charges

Last week, there was a bit of drama at my shared house. Yes, it is the last and absolute final straw for me. My roommate's ex-boyfriend was arrested for simple battery in front of our house. I was the only witness but I didn't see much.

I am a bit fearful that her ex is now truly pissed off and may come back for revenge. All I know is that I'm calling the police if I ever seem him hanging outside our place again.

For this reason, she is supposed to get a restraining order but who knows. She refused to press charges and actually tried to change her story after he was arrested. Yeah, so crying and trembling in fear one minute because he wouldn't leave the front stoop after we finally got him out. And now it wasn't a big deal? I was there and I was scared of the odds that two weak women would win against a pissed-off, probably imbalanced dude.

But this brings up a larger issue. It's crazy to think that women are often victims of mental and/or physical abuse from their boyfriends/husbands and often they choose to not press charges and to not get restraining orders to keep them away and to keep themselves and their children safe. I don't understand it.

The story of Rhiana, my roommate (though a more minor offense), and that couple who lived above me last year...it all makes me sick.

Yes, you love and care about him but he hurt you. Of course, in his right mind, he would never want to do you any harm. But things can sour very quickly and escalate so far that he might have actually kill you.

I understand that in those situations it is often childhood trauma or dysfunction merely repeating itself. It is a cycle that rarely breaks without counseling and lots of inner strength.

It is sad to think of how many women are living in silent terror of the one person who is supposed to love them the most and protect them from all others.

Women need to be stronger. Women can be stronger. It sounds cliche, but love shouldn't hurt. You have to realize and fight for love that is pure joy, and not pain.

Roommate Revenge

Last night, it seemed that I was living in a dorm. My roommate had a birthday party that started calm enough but became much more prolonged and loud as the night wore on.

I was in no mood to party given that I didn't leave the office until 730 and had to report again at 8 this morning. Of course, I was late this morning because I was unable to get to sleep until the party ended at midnight.

I went down twice to ask my roommates to turn the music down or at least move the festivities to the back room which isn't directly above my bedroom. But they disregarded my requests. I resisted going down again only because I knew that the third time would get ugly. They were getting drunk and I was fuming. I don't care to create a hostile living environment until I am certain that I have a new place to live.

While I waited for the party to die, I sent out a few emails for roommates and plotted on different ways to get revenge. Besides disregarding the 30 day notice, which I could given that I don't have an effective lease, I only have a few ideas. I've already decided that I'm not doing anymore house chores, but I could also report the house's free cable, have my own rager and specifically not invite them(cause I wouldn't want them there anyway), and start early the process of selling my surplus furniture that is currently in the shared rooms. I could definitely use the extra cash to buy boxes and moving supplies. But all that just seems petty. Well, I am the petty type...

Any other ideas?

Last night was the very last straw. I take my career way too seriously to have anything but quiet time during the week. There is just too much reading and preparing that I have to cram into the 3 hours I have each night between the time I get home and the time I'm ready for bed. When I first moved in, the house was much more sedate, but the new roommates have changed the house's lifestyle. Now, my roommates are too young, foolish and immature to mesh with the home atmosphere I want and the lifestyle I now live.

My shared house is a black hole

My belongings, kept in the shared space, keep disappearing. And I'm getting fed up.

I showed up in my 6 person house with lots of stuff. I found a place for most of my items in my room and the assigned shelving/space.

Then, it started happening. About a month after my move, things started to disappear. First, it was my can opener and fan. Then, it was the chair I use to sit on the front porch. Then, my awesome 8-year old "they don't make 'em like they used to" shopping cart went AWOL. Now it's my cookie cooling racks. The list goes on.

It would be fine if people we using my things for a short bit before returning them. Well, let me be honest: I don't do sharing. Yes, I'm in a shared house but I like the idea of my stuff being available for my use when I want and need it. That's why the disappearing act pisses me off so much.

But the kicker is that no one knows where any of my things are. That's just bull. I'm sending an S.O.S. to my roomies tomorrow about my prized possession, my shopping cart (you try lugging a huge bag of soil home and see if you miss the cart). I think that our old roomie might have taken it and I am determined to restore it (and everything else) to it's proper place before the end of the year.

I guess shared living is finally getting to me. I don't like sharing a bathroom with two guys and a kitchen with five, busy people. I don't want to pay to move again so I can only hope to out-stay the roomies that annoy me the most (at this point, 4 out of the 5 and the 5th has been on assignment since August).