Sunday, August 06, 2006
Zev, Erik, and the movers did all the real work, so why am *I* sore?
Current mood: confused
I am REALLY BAD at unpacking. Here was my thought process this morning, as I stood in the middle of my rather disheveled living room:
First I'll unpack books. Oh, cards and stuff go with games. Crap, I hate 52 card pick up. CRAP, now there are only 49 cards. I bet the other three fell behind those video boxes. I'm going to unpack my videos and DVDs, then, and put them there. Oh, but first I should glue that piece of wood back. Ugh, and the glass is really dusty, I should windex that first. Where the hell is the windex? I had it just . . . . Well, maybe if I get some of these boxes unpacked I'll find it. I guess I'll just keep going with the books. Oh, but the bookshelves aren't where I want them. But I can't move them because book boxes are stacked in front of them. Maybe I should set up my TV and stuff. But the shelves have the video boxes on them! Oh Lord.
Meanwhile I've half-unpacked several boxes of books, have undone work I did yesterday setting up my stacking bookshelves, have wandered aimlessly all over the apartment in search of windex, wood glue, and a clue. My dining table is covered with piles of books because I want to organize them before I shelve them, and I keep having to rein my brain in from thinking about curtains and all sorts of stuff that can WAIT until I'm UNPACKED. If I ever am. Oy.
Help? Please? Anybody?
Monday, August 7, 2006
Why am I sore? Because I'm sick. Yay.
Current mood: sick
Nope. I now have a fever again. I feel like crap. I'm working from home because I've already need to make up the billable hours I lost Friday. And my apartment is, of course, a wreck, and I can't go to the hardware store, so I can't fix my bookshelf that got a little broken, and I can't really do any of the stuff I want to do to make this place livable. I cant even go to the grocery store to buy soup and vitamin C drops and gatorade. And all the friends Ive called are busy. And my apostrophe just stopped working. This sucks. Hrmph.
Tuesday, August 8, 2006
Do most hardware stores carry machetes? Current mood: sluggishCuz it seemed weird to me. But I got my C clamps, I got a level, and I patronized a family owned business that has been selling hardware for over fifty years, or something. Feels good.
Plus I found out where to buy a machete, should a jungle ever spring up in my apartment. *looks around*
Hmmm. Might actually be useful . . .
Feeling better, but . . . the grocery store will have to wait until Thursday. Hope I'm okay playing trumpet tomorrow. I feel fine, just nooooo eeenerrrrgy.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
No Beachin' Current mood: sick
Well, I don't think I'll be going to the beach with my mom and sis this weekend. Came home from band last night, and yep, had a fever.
Going to try to make it through the whole day at the office, though. Got my vitamin C drops!
I wish this meant I'd be able to get stuff done around the new place, but I dunno. We'll have to see how much better I get.
Friday, August 11, 2006
It's Progress Current mood: Ebullient, as Frank would say
I actually sound worse than I feel. Yesterday I nearly lost my voice, but I felt much better! I've got about 75% of my voice back now, and I'm coughing some, but it's not bad. Better yet, I have energy! Not tons, but much more than earlier in the week.
The best part is, I don't think I'm contagious, so while I'm still in town for the weekend instead of at the beach (), I can at least hang out with people as long as I don't feel too tired.
Yay for not being a hermit! Yay for Friday!
Friday, August 11, 2006
Too much excitement Current mood: relieved
Not, like, *tooooo* too much. But still too much.
I decided to come home right after dinner tonight. Because 1) my friends were being a little boring, and 2) I've been sick, so turning in early sounded good.
So I get out of my car, and I go and get my mail. And I walk back and up the stairs to my door and . . .
It's open. I look at it, with my head cocked and my eyebrows drawn together. I nudge it with my foot like it's an animal I think might be dead. It swings back, and I see that the bolt isn't shot, and the door frame looks fine.
I nudge it again, and reach in and turn on the lights, and peep around.
Then I remember. I *did* lock the door this morning. I *know* I did. I had to go back to get my Hawai'ian shirt to put on after work cuz it's Friday, and Chuck and I always wear a Hawai'ian shirt to Valhalla. And I had my shirt in one hand as I locked the door with the other. I remember looking at the lock, turning the key, and having this red shirt in view. So I *know* I locked it, for sure.
So I turn around, walk back down the steps, and call the complex to see if they have a security service. They do not. I call 311 to ask what I should do, because, mind you, I'm in denial that this is an actual emergency.
311 hands me over to the police department, and they dispatch a car to my location, take my phone number, and tell me they'll be there soon.
So I try to call Kerri. Who doesn't answer. So I try Erik, who doesn't answer. So I try Terri, who doesn't answer. So I just start going down the list and figure I'll call the first person who seems to be a good person to call. I end up with Joe.
Joe reassures me I've done the right thing, and keeps me company while I wait.
In about a half hour the cops show up. Much to the chagrin, I'm sure, of the woman walking her (absolutely lovely and friendly) dogs by on the sidewalk. I wish I had had time to stop and make friends. I explain to them that I came home, my door was open and unlocked, and that I knew for certain that I had locked it this morning. And that I don't know if anything is missing, because I didn't go in, or really look.
It's not a big place. It doesn't take them long to search it (with me hovering frightened outside the door, poised to run if any sounds of a struggle break out). They check all the rooms, they check my doors and windows. And no one is there, and I come in, and my TV, stereo, computer, are all intact.
One of the officers asks concernedly, "Is the the way your apartment looked when you left this morning?" I shamefacely laugh, "Yes, I just moved in." The place is a wreck. It really is.
They laugh, and say okay, and head out the door. No forms or anything. Complete and total false alarm.
And frankly, I'm happier that way! So here's a shout out to the men in blue who made it safe for me to come back into my home. I still love this place, but I'm going to raise a little hell in the apartment office tomorrow, and get my locks changed. Once is enough!
So that was my week. I get new locks on Monday. I hope to be completely recovered by then too, since I have a big client meeting. To that end, I do believe I'll go to bed now.