June 11, 2010

I awoke this morning half an hour before my alarm went off, not out of any sort of industriousness or bushy-tailed morning energy but because one of the cats (and I have no doubt which one) knocked something that sounded vaguely glass-like onto the floor. I darted out of bed so fast I was not quite awake yet, to discover both cats looking culpable but no obvious knocked-over thing in sight. I checked the living room and kitchen, the likeliest places, and then poked my head in the (dark) bathroom to check the items on the sink. When I didn't find anything, I went back to bed.

A half hour later I came back out, and when I flipped on the light in the bathroom I realized that they had managed to knock one of our bathroom shelves almost entirely off the wall. What I heard fall were two glass candle holders which luckily didn't break. The shelf won't stay up anymore.

I should also mention that I was already in a bad mood because I woke up with that Train song, "Hey Soul Sister," in my head.

When I went to put everything in my car, I realized I had parked next to a strip of grass that appears to have not been mowed since last summer. It was wet from rain and almost knee high. I was wearing canvas flats.

I got to work and had an email from the Arabian Horse Association, saying that my renewed membership card had been returned to them. "We sent it to the following address, could you please update us?" they said, and then listed my current address, no errors. "It was marked 'vacant return to sender,'" they said. This is the second item of mail in a week to be inappropriately returned to sender. I already hated my mail guy for consistently delivering the wrong mail to my mailbox, and now it's entered a whole new dimension.

An hour into my work day I received a confirmation from my landlord of my intent to vacate my apartment. Out of -- who knows? profound laziness, or maybe an inability to believe I'm moving -- I didn't declare my intent in writing until yesterday, which means my official move out date is July 10. I consoled myself about the extra 10 days' rent by telling myself that I at least have ten extra days to find a place, plus there's the possibility of an overlap of apartments, giving me extra time to move. The emailed confirmation states that NOPE! They seem to believe I owe full rent for July: $1100.

Grandmom, I know you're reading this so please forgive me for a second: They can go fuck themselves. I'm not paying $1100 in rent to live in my apartment for ten days.

It's noon; it was supposed to be sunny today but it's still oppressively overcast, cold, and raining. The office is freezing because they're installing new windows on one side of our building, and it smells like cigarette smoke because the window installers are smoking.

I was going to run on my lunch break but I'm writing this instead because I've decided I refuse to go out there. I'm giving you the stink-eye, Portland: it'll be sunny at 5, right?

tl;dr this is my day. pretty much exactly.

1 comment:

  1. Jessica, this is your grandmother speaking. Please wash your mouth out with soap!
    Lov, Grandma Tami.