YET ANOTHER NOT FUNNY POST

So really? How sad it is that me minus internet equals much weeping and gnashing of teeth?

I felt better last night, due in no small part to Court but I'm still unhappy with my life at the moment. Yes, I'm making attempts to fix it. Yes, I know that is all I can really do but I'm frustrated. I feel as though I would be so much better off if even just one area got better, just one thing to look forward to.

I was SUPPOSED to move on Sunday. I believe it is a reasonable assumption that when someone says, "I will give you the keys on Sunday," that means they will give them to you at a decent enough hour, particularly given the following day was a work day, that you could accomplish all that is required when moving. HOWEVER, you would apparently be wrong. As I was. Asshat.

My new landlord (who happens to have been my neighbor the last 4 years) didn't deem it important to tell me in all the conversations we had about the move in date that he wasn't going to be home until 7 on Sunday. At night. At the earliest. Again, I reiterate: A-S-S-H-A-T.

By that point I knew I wouldn't get anything done and would be up way too late and would end up being a royal bitch on Monday, which I was anyway but for different reasons.

My God, I already DON'T want to move into that apartment and don't even get me started on the bathroom. I took a spray bottle of watered down bleach to it last night and have yet to go back to witness the carnage. And the ceiling fan? Looked as if no one had cleaned it SINCE IT WAS INSTALLED. Ew ew ew. I'm not afraid to clean but it's different when it's someone else's filth. The previous chick did a good job on the carpets but the place still smelled like dog.

The funny thing is (not as in, Funny HaHa, more like Kind-Of-Sad-and-Pathethic), I probably wouldn't have as much of a problem with this place if it was in a different location (say, Columbus?). I don't want to be here anymore. My friends (specifically one of the Matt's) mentioned this weekend how I just up and disappeared like David Copperfield for nearly nine months and I laughed and played it off by making jazz hands and saying "TA-DA" but... so? I was ready to move on. Am ready to move on. I'm ready to be somewhere else. I love my friends and I'll always remember the times I had with them but I just. don't. want. to. be. here. Six years is my cut off date, which means I have to be gone by the end of August. Not so very long when I've heard hardly a whisper on the job front. Something has just got to click. Anything.

Things just need to get better.