Overly Verbal

News! I’ve got news! I haven’t had a roommate in a very long time, but right around the middle of December, I’m going to start sharing a home with someone. I suppose it isn’t entirely correct to call it a roommate situation, but that’s just going to have to do for now – completing apartment applications that required filling in a blank that reads “relationship” forces one to recognize the inadequacy of words to describe, say, a relationship. For a while I was leaning toward Person of Opposite Sex Sharing Living Quarters, or POSSLQ, if you will, after a brief but intense desire to write “soulmate” (only to see the look on the face of the person reviewing the application), but we finally, after reading all about relationships on Wikipedia, casting about for a word that would suffice, settled on “partner”.

No matter what you call it, it’s going to be grand. When two people are moving out of two separate apartments into one, there are all sorts of fun conversations: where are we going to put all of his guitars (and my keyboard), how does he feel about my bowl of hedgehogs* (it’s balanced by his small but vibrant collection of plush South Park figures), whose coffee table is less ugly (His? Strange, but true.), the fact that his cat allergy, combined with Molly’s asthma, finally justifies my long-awaited purchase of an exceedingly expensive vacuum cleaner (which as it happens - and I am totally not making this up to rationalize spending over $500 on a vacuum cleaner - is certified by the Asthma & Allergy Foundation of America), etc.

Of course, there are sacrifices to be made. I will be losing my home phone number, for example, and apparently have to give up my Verizon FIOS in order to have cable internet access, on account of I am moving so far out into suburbia that I’ll actually be living in exurbia. And he’s going to have to relinquish many of the items in his kitchen so we can fit my kitchen things in (although I am leaning toward having one shelf in a kitchen cabinet in which we keep books that are not cookbooks, on account of if there is something more charming than opening a kitchen cabinet in the home of an English teacher and finding books there, I don’t know what that would be).

(I’m pretty excited about the whole thing, but there’s one thing I’m not very excited about, which I mention now only so it won’t come as a shock to you later – I don’t think Mouse will be moving with me and Molly. He’s nearly 17 and a half now, and I think he’s simply forgotten where it’s appropriate to relieve himself. Sometimes he gets it right, but more often than not he doesn’t. He isn’t grooming himself as well as he used to, and he’s showing many other signs of advancing age, and while I’m trying to be realistic about the fact that a domestic cat can’t live forever, I sort of wish he would.)

Anyway, I’ve been talking about moving out of the ghetto for a very long time now, have felt a real sense of urgency about it since the man trying to climb through the window episode, but I really wanted to hold out until I found an ideal living situation. And now that I have found an apartment in which there will not only always be someone I enjoy talking to, but also such luxurious amenities as a rust-free refrigerator, a full-sized stove, a heating and air conditioning system that is less than 20 years old, and carpet that is not disintegrating before my very eyes, I’m glad that I waited so long. I’m actually anxious to move, and wish the perfect apartment was available sooner, but the sense of relief I feel about finally figuring out what the heck I’m doing is rivaled only by my gladness that I will one day soon relinquish the keys to the place I live now, and get keys to a place that suits me better (said place also having such novel and technologically-advanced programs as direct debit payment of the rent, so that my rent will never get lost in the mail again.**) I’m still waiting to see everything completely finalized, but it won’t be long now, and then you get to help me move!

Yippee!

I’m sure there’s other stuff I could tell you now, but I’ve gotta go do some laundry. And eat dinner. And blah, blah, blah, one has to live in the world, etc.

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* To wit:

** Hey! I’m not only going to have to pay less rent for more space, I’m also going to save over $5.00 a year on stamps!

Free tacos when people do something pretty!

That is all.

I have something to bitch about!

So lately iTunes has been making me upgrade it frequently, and it recently decided to consolidate my music library or something, and it changed everything around so that many, many songs are suddenly classified as parts of a compilation when they are not, and Wednesday night I spent easily two minutes of my life trying to find a song by looking for the artist, and I eventually found it, but not where it belongs at all. Why does iTunes keep screwing with me? I’m busy, and I don’t have time to fix their wacky categorization.

(However, I’m sure that you’ll be pleased to know that if you were wandering around my newly miscategorized music library, you’d find The Buzzcocks right before Captain & Tennille, followed swiftly by Cheap Trick. How are you not gonna be happy about that?)

Actually, I do have time to fix it, because soon I’ll be on a plane, on my way to Texas. My most valiant attempts at locating and then purchasing a pair of cowboy boots to wear to Texas failed miserably, but Wednesday I purchased the most adorable dress in the history of dresses, which happens to match perfectly a pair of shoes that have been sitting under my dresser waiting patiently to be matched to the perfect dress, and so this evening I will be the (admittedly self-declared) Queen of Adorableness. Which is, well, pretty much as we expected. (And also better than the title I earned at work the other day. I am apparently the Empress of PowerPoint, but this title seems to carry with it responsibility for teaching everyone and their mother how to actually use PowerPoint. While I appreciate being recognized for my skills, it just so happens that almost every single feature of PowerPoint* serves to make things ugly and difficult to comprehend, and it pains my soul to make things ugly and difficult to comprehend – Animation? Just because you can doesn’t mean you should - so I’m trying to figure out how to abdicate that particular throne.)

In any event, I feel certain that at least one person will feel compelled to photograph me in the most adorable dress in the history of dresses, and if you’re nice, I’ll share.

Also, Sara asked me to do this book thingy – you’ll find it below the, you know, fold.

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* Each of which one can find assistance in using by, say, trying the “Help” feature. (I’m just sayin’.)

[Pretend this is a fold.]

Seriously, if I had anything interesting to say, I wouldn’t have time to say it in. But I don’t. I am completely out of interesting stuff to write about, which is especially alarming because of the rather loose definition of interesting I employ in these parts.

This too shall pass, I’m sure, but in the meantime I’m sure there’s something else on the Internet for you to read. (Or at least I think there is – I don’t have time to read the Internet right now.)

So I went to the dentist today, and there’s not a whole heck of a lot to say about it, except that:

a) Last time I went to the dental facility I did not write about it here – didn’t even see my dentist, just spent a little bit too much time with a hygienist, as one is wont to do when one hasn’t visited a dental hygienist in something like three years.

b) Last time I actually laid eyes on my dentist, I got “See A Little Light” stuck in my head. This time, it was “Comfortably Numb”, which was not so bad, except that it reminded me of “Hey You”, and I’m already feeling a little whiny on account of the dentist drilling holes in my teeth and whatnot – having “Hey You” stuck in my head is not improving my mood in the slightest.

c) I do not understand why there is no pudding at my local 7-11.

That is all.