Hard Cheese (melted)

Can't post pictures because it involves either setting up the computer with the camera software or finding the camera software. Since we have been unable to find the pepper, finding the software is not as easy as it sounds.

I think it might be in the box with the pepper.

It's suddenly summer in Eugene -- that time of year when it goes from crappy rain to sunburn hot in one day. The house, turns out, is really hot upstairs. To top it off, it's only been about 80 - 85 degrees. I'm thinking of warning the parental units against visiting in August unless they want to lose a few pounds. There's an air conditioner that was left on the floor of my room ... but it's kind of ... erm ... well ... like everything here, I'm afraid of installing it and have it break the window or suck in a bird or whatever. But, then again, it's hot, hot, hot.

Oh decisions.

This week's house thing: the last tenants had cleaned the oven with an oven cleaner (good) that had never been wiped off (bad), which led to some toxic-ness, which was fixed (like everything because I suck at fixing stuff) by the cousin/roommate. And the oven timer doesn't work, but it also doesn't turn off. We're on 11 hours and it's still running down there. But, it works and that's a Good Thing.

Memorial Day

Haven't really been able to put anything away yet, but the plumbing works now and the refrigerator has been cleaned by the cousin/roommate, so we're good for today. It's a holiday weekend, so I'm not saying that everything will run smoothly, but for now we're all good. I should have the books sorted and shelved by mid-July.

In Memoriam:
Everything is now moved from the old house into the new house ... and I'll miss Jackson St. in some ways. Not so much in the winter, pretty though it is in this picture, but my room, which was not in the direct path of the fire-heat, was usually about 5 degrees colder than outside on days like this.

Still, it was yar.

Won't miss the screaming child on the left or the passive-aggressive bickersons on the right and their many, many, many, many, many home improvement projects. Sure, give me drug dealers any flippin' day of the week over that crap.

Before/After pictures coming soon.

In and nothing like Flynn

Bitch post, so look out.

We've moved in and so far:
- the phones really don't work (we have 2 that do in all 7 rooms (not counting garage or bathrooms). isn't that funny? I'm psychic!
- there's a leak coming from somewhere. we don't know where. so I had to come downstairs to shower this morning at 4 am and I'm not happy about it, mostly because the increasing drip seems to prove what I've said all along which is it doesn't effing matter if I use upstairs or downstairs, because it's going to leak either way, but now I'm cranky and my hair is wet in weird places where it was supposed to be dry and and and and and
- and the refrigerator doesn't work. our milk is in the freezer

oh, but the rototiller guys are coming to fix the front yard, which is nice, because it looks like pants, but I feel bad throwing a plumber and a new refrigerator at the landlord since he's already shelling out for the yard.

What's good is having friends to help you move and stop you from crying.

And, honestly, I kind oflike sitting on the living room floor and using an upside-down soup pot for a desk. It's cosy and bohemian. I guess that's weird, but there you are.

Now I have to figure out where I put my house keys yesterday.

Last blog before the move. Tomorrow all goes off to go on again at some point this weekend. The prospect of a day without Internet or television is really jacking with my head. But, there's nothing too exciting on Turner ("3 Worlds of Gulliver" ... as if ...) and I've missed "Most Haunted" for the last 8 weeks, so I think I'll be okay for tomorrow. But what if it's not hooked up by Saturday? OR SUNDAY?

No ... no ... I've got homework to do, and the books are moved but not filed by country, author and year yet. Oh and putting the bed together, sure. That's important. And food. I guess at some point we should buy food and stop eating out of greasy bags. (side note: greasy bag food depression is not a myth.)

I can't believe how often I used to move when I was younger. I swear it was every other day. My friend Kelly and I are in a race to see who can fill the other's address book section first. It's double-dipping now that she's moved out of the C's and into the F's. But, yeah, what a flippin' drag packing, moving, unpacking. Next time I'm just selling this shite in the yard.

Fingers cross that the cable works over there.

Moving = Good: I found my bowling ball!

Moving = Bad: everything else.

As an addendum to the last post, cousin/roommate has met the meth-addict drug dealers from across the street. One of them came to the door today looking for "Michael" ... is that what the kids call it now? I still maintain that there are few neighborhoods in Eugene that don't have some form of drug traffic. Go your own way, crack heads, just don't touch our stuff. The days of peeing on the lawn are over. Human beings live here now.

"You guys were lucky"

I feel like I'm working 3 jobs. That house is a disaster. This is our second week of painting, cleaning and fixing. This is after the cleaning lady and the handy man have been there. According to our neighbors, for the past few years it's been a party house. They've been subjected to broken windows and public urination, not to mention issues with garbage -- our next-door neighbor came over to tell us how happy she was to see that we had trash cans (!) because the last group of people would just let it pile up in the side yard (!!) -- which I discovered decomposing yesterday while pulling up some plastic sheeting (!!!) ... the horror ... it might make for some good compost though.

Speaking of, the yard container is already full of weeds and plants that ... dear God ... I can't even begin really ... I chopped down weeds yesterday -- CHOPPED DOWN -- that were the size of a greyhound.

The punchline: our landlord told us that we were lucky because he has 2 other houses up for rent that were abandoned by the tenants and are a mess.

Not like our house.

Chico

I still can't get my head around the idea that Diego Corrales is dead. I wanted to find a picture for the blog, but maybe it's better not to put one. He could look really bad in a fight.

He was mouthy, but I liked him.

It just seems kind of stupid that he's dead.

That's all.

yin and yin and yang and yang

Yin: Earned an A+ on my paper about World War II trauma (I used pictures)
Yin: Some letter came in the mail saying I've won a university award (but they don't want to tell me what the award is because it would ruin the surprise so I've got to eat some dry chicken at a luncheon to find out -- the award ceremony is when? when? on moving day, that's right.)
Yang: Then Mal's bike was stolen FROM OUR BACKYARD and I'm still not sure which part of that upsets me more: bike or backyard.
Yang: There was another yang and now I can't remember what it is ... there, see? It's all passing. All of life is suffering, but suffering can be alleviated.

that is all