For anyone who has noticed, I've tried to post every day at lest once this week while I'm apartment sitting. Even when I have zero to say.
Cue the fact that there is a heavy smell of ham coming from the lady next door. The Green Lady. Which, trust me beats the smell of raw earth and smoke and wet dog that is always coming from her place. But not by much.
Dude, not even joking, I think if I were to stand outside her door for a few minutes and breathe deeply I could get high off the fumes. We do not call her The Green Lady for nothing. I helpped her with a box of something the other day and she would not let the door open long enough to see inside, but damn the smoke haze was as thick as fog on an October morning.
I'm actually dreading having to go back to my own hell of an apartment next week. Yes, I'll have use of my computer which runs faster and doesn't crap out all the time etc. But, the idea of having to go back to that building with the crazy landlord, his crazy daughter and her demonseeded son who I swear to you is posessed, and the broken windows he never fixes no matter how many times I ask, and the fact they run a daycare out of the daughter's apartment, and the fact it's like an oven no matter how many fans I buy... you get the picture.
Things are in motion for me to move. Actually, if you want to call it that. Since you all by now are aware I'm on disability because of the O.I. type 1 and the past car accident, since you know about that, which of course, always bundles of fun. I've been on a wait list to move since August 2009. Yes, two years. Waiting. in hell. And why am I waiting? Disability needs to move me and our city sucks.
Just when I thought I couldn't feel any lower about myself I read that as I type it.
Oh, and did you see the big CMPunk episode of WWE Raw last night? I got to see a small bit of the beginning on the midnight replay. Will be sitting with baited breath and homemade cookies this afternoon for the main replay.
Shortbread. They turned out excellent for once. So it must be the stove at my place that is messed up. All these years, I have been thinking I just can not bake something simple like cookies. But I've made them three days in a row here at mom's in her kitchen and they turned out perfect.
Another reason to hate my own apartment.
