A mix of emotions *Edit with PICTURES OF DOOM

I’m getting the keys to my apartment tomorrow!!!!!!!!!! Dave is coming with me so that he can see the place for the first time.

I cannot emphasize how excited I am to be finished with my current living situation. To have a fridge again (have I mentioned that my current roommate is a food hoarder? Because I’m pretty sure that she is. I should take a picture of the fridge and show it to you. You’d be so disgusted.), to have a clean kitchen to cook in, to not have to deal with the incessant barking that occurs when I make a phone call during the day when Alison is not home, to have a comfortable place to sit and hang out outside of my bedroom, to be able to run my air conditioner when I see fit (apparently Alison doesn’t believe in using the AC, even though her house has central air. It was 93 degrees with 50% humidity for a two day stretch here and she didn’t turn it on. I turned it on at one point while she was at work and when I came home that evening she had shut it off again. The main level of the floor was at least somewhat tolerable but my bedroom, which is located in the converted attic, was HORRIBLE and I can’t stress that word enough. ATROCIOUS. NOT CONDUCIVE TO LIFE. Okay, I’m being overly dramatic)…

It’s going to be absolutely phenomenal.

That doesn’t mean that I’m not a little sad about leaving. I mean sure, this place is kind of my personal hell on Earth but it was also the place where I mended my heart after moving out of my apartment with Dave. Things got better for me while I lived here; things got better for us. I moved into this place feeling more uncertainty about what would become of me than I’d ever felt in my life and everything worked itself out. So yeah, I’m a little sad to be moving on. Sad and happy and relieved with a twinge of longing.. that probably doesn’t even make sense, but it’s what I feel inside when I think about this era of my life coming to a close.

While packing up some of my stuff I stumbled across the lease that Dave and I signed together on May 14 of last year.  I didn’t know that I’d saved it… and I cried a little when I saw our signatures next to each other. I tried to throw it away but I couldn’t, so it’s packed up with my books.

This is a rational person acting irrationally.

My parents (Oh, how I love and appreciate my parents) are coming to town to help me move this Saturday. We’re planning on doing the bulk of the move on Sunday because I have the whole day off- Dave is going to help us out. My parents will be heading back home on Monday afternoon.

Today I was surprised to hear from the owner of our restaurant that she wants to start giving me more responsibility as a manager. This as I thought I was about to lose my job (it’s a long story that involves suspected conniving on the part of the other manager at our restaurant… maybe I’ll explain later).

I was pleasantly surprised.

I’m going to be in charge of finding, interviewing, and hiring prospective employees. It’s going to be up to me to make sure that the new employees are properly trained. I’ll basically be taking over the interpersonal part of our respective jobs while Aubrey continues on with the administrative stuff.

It’ll be interesting to say the least!

I really should be sleeping. It’s nearing 3am. I don’t know why I’m still awake.

Are you ready for this? Because I don’t know if you’re ready for this. I present the number 1 reason why I hate living here:

I literally walked into the kitchen with my camera just now and this is how it looked. I did not move anything or touch anything. This is how it is every day. If I clean the kitchen then it reverts back to this within a day or two. She thrives on clutter. I loathe, LOATHE, LOATHE clutter.

And that rag? Yeah, the one sitting on the kitchen faucet? SHE HASN’T WASHED IT SINCE I MOVED IN 6 MONTHS AGO. When I moved in there was a rag in the sink that was stiff and moldy and stinky. I cleaned the kitchen and literally threw the thing away- there was no saving it. That night she took out another rag. The rag that you see is the one that she took out that night in December. DUDES, It’s JUNE!

The cupboard where she stores most of her food. I didn’t open the cupboard for this picture, folks. It was already spread agape when I walked into this kitchen. Standard. How do people live like this? There is no rhyme or reason to anything- absolutely zero organization- just shit piled upon shit piled upon shit.

Wait, it gets worse:

Her fridge and freezer. The only things that belong to me in this picture are the jam on the top shelf and the insulin box that you see under the cheese to the left of the eggs. I refuse to store anything in there because it smells like rotting. Notice the multiple jugs of milk? Why would somebody need that much milk? She doesn’t drink it. She buys it, it goes bad, and then she buys more without throwing the old stuff away. It just builds up and builds up and builds up. You can’t fit anything more in her freezer. It’s literally packed so full that I could put nothing in there if I tried.

Does she ever wonder what might be hidden in there? Does she ever think about the atrocities that may be lurking beneath her newly purchased box of popsicles? 

This, my friends, is proof positive that she does not:

Please give your attention to the the ‘Best By’ date near the top of the tub. Yep, you read that right. November 29, 2009. And this is just one thing. I could dig through there and find at least twenty more expired tubs of shit. She has a thing of pasta salad that’s been in there since December. When I first moved in I cleaned out the fridge and found stuff that had expired A FULL YEAR prior to the day that I moved in.

See? I wasn’t even exaggerating. I’m pretty sure that she’s a food hoarder. Why else would anybody possibly hang onto food for that long?! She knows that it’s all bad- you can smell that when you open the fridge. She has to understand that it’s bad- if she doesn’t then there is definitely something wrong. Or she’s just really, really, extraord

inarily lazy and doesn’t care. At least with the first scenario I can feel bad for her. I’d rather feel bad for her for something that she may not be able to help than be completely blown away and disgusted over something that she can.