Things are going no better on the apartment front (and yes, Kono, this is another post about apartment hunting, and at this rate you might as well get used to it). One apartment was yanked off the market between the time the ad was posted and when I was scheduled to view it the next day; another received such an overwhelming response that by the time I showed up to look at it, the owner decided the right and just thing to do would be to up the rent by a cool $250 a month, thus tipping the balance from probably affordable, just barely, to ha, in your dreams can you afford to pay that much for rent. After a "difficult" decision, the owner of yet another apartment decided to go with the other candidate, and my e-mails in regards to at least two other apartments are currently going unanswered. It is tough out there, is what I am saying.
As such, I am still at my parents' house, after not having planned on being here much longer than a long weekend, rotating the same two outfits and doing teeny tiny loads of laundry every couple of days. Besides apartment hunting, I've been spending my time being bored and lazing about in the hammock in the backyard. Which was all well and good, and from there I had a good vantage point of a robin doing its robin thing in its nest right above me, and hummingbirds flitting around the mimosa tree, and about a million gnats endearing themselves to me around my face and eyes, until! I walked out in the backyard the other day to find this travesty:Hide your eyes, it's hideous! Oh, the humanity. "But what...what happened?" I gasped, once I found breath to speak. It would seem that someone, clearly intent on destroying my happiness, tore into it with the gear shift of a riding mower, thus rendering it--"totally fixable!" Says my mother, beginning knot-tier and lifelong cheapskate. The thing is, there is a pretty severe disconnect in this house between things that can, in theory, be fixed, and things that actually will be fixed in this decade, or ever. One the one hand, you have pretty much everything; on the other, next to nothing.
But enough about my very important problems. On to The Cute.
A Dog and His Bone: The Life and Times of a Scruffdog
Busted hammock, busted screen door, and plastic bucket o' water on porch. Because that is how we roll in this house.
Play dead, Deucey! Good boy.
'Cause everyone needs a "duck" buddy. Friends with bonefits?
Can you imagine the insanity this blog would devolve into if I had pets of my own? I mean, can you? Let's all hope I find an apartment and get out of my parents' house soon, or I'm afraid we're in for more posts like this one.