It's (not) All Good

I just got back from getting the keys to my new place.

[Aside: I'm stressed from packing/sorting/living in limbo and I'm ready for this to all be over with.  This helps to explain the following whining sentiments.]

When we toured the place, our realtor said casually, “This will all be clean by the time you move in, of course.”

False.

I got the keys and went up to the apartment and it’s totally not clean. I didn’t say anything because at this point, what’s the point?  It’s Friday of a holiday weekend and everyone’s trying not to work (unless you’re in retail).  There’s even a coffee table in there from the previous tenants and my new landlord asked if it was okay if she came to pick it up Sunday.  I said, “Sure,” because I am a sucker.  No, I said, “Sure,” because what was I going to say?  ”No, pick up that coffee table and carry it downstairs and put it in your Corolla?”

And the power was off which totally made me panic.  It’s literally ninety-five degrees in there and there’s no power so I can’t clean at night if I wanted to.  (Gustav hasn’t made landfall, no sense living by flashlight this early in the game.)  And I can’t open the windows because the building is 70 years old and there are no screens and opening your window at night in Houston with no screen is the equivalent of stripping down naked, covering your body with honey and offering yourself upon the altar of the Mosquito Goddess.  (female because the male ones don’t bite you)

So I was facing my potential weekend of moving into a powerless apartment (might as well cancel the cable installation appt Sunday morning) on a holiday weekend where no offices open until Tuesday.  Shit, with those options, I’d rather work.

And looking at the roach droppings in the cabinets and the dirt on the floors and the small rooms, I thought that maybe I could talk to my current apartment complex.  Maybe it’s not to late to renew our lease.  $400 more a month no longer seems unreasonable in the face of roach droppings and a small closet.

But I called Green Mountain and because I said I wanted the power turned on today, they have until midnight to actually do it.  (What are they, freelance graphic designers?)  So that’s good news.  Maybe if the power’s on later, Dave and I can have a cleaning date (HOT).

And I CAN paint.  So once we clean, paint, and remove the oppressive mini-blinds . . . I’ll feel better about moving.  Also, once I start back into my life of meditating, yoga and regular stuff (NOT PACKING), I’ll be less grumply.