Well,
I now have batteries and a very clean house, but I haven’t had time to take the pictures yet. You’re starting to wonder if this apartment even exists. I’ve been saying it’s all perfect, but I realized I do have two issues with it. First, there’s an imbalance of hot to cold water in the shower. I’m starting to feel poached. Second, there’s a brand new toilet with all the modern water-saving features. This fixture was clearly designed by a man, because the thought of tampons never crossed his mind. That’s all the detail you need about that, I’m sure. Yesterday and the day prior, I had a dollar in my wallet. That’s all. Nor am I joking about that. I spent a week being pretty pissed that my monthly consulting check was mailed late and to the wrong address, which would have to occur during the month I paid a mortgage and rent and a deposit on a new place. I realize that I’m lucky enough to have the luxury to laugh about eating cheese sammiches and not being able to afford coffee. Which is the truth, but only for a very short amount of time. For some people, that’s every day. So last night when my check finally found its way to my mailbox-cubby, I rushed out to do my two-bank cash-and-deposit routine. This time, the girl at US Bank was SO nice. SO SO SO nice. It was the first time in recorded history I was not treated like a criminal and/or imposition for demanding a handful of large bills. It always takes them forever to summon the cash from the mysterious place behind the locked door (I imagine an old guy with a visor hand-cranking a dollar-bill printing press), but this time she made a huge deal apologizing for the wait. Then she tried to send me through the drive-thru instead, then changed her mind and decided to credit my account $5 for the inconvenience. I kept telling her it was no trouble at all… after all, I was simply enjoying being treated nicely for once. Damn. After that, Homie and I could finally afford to do our Aliveness Project shopping for the six people we adopted. We headed to Target with gift lists and coffee in hand. We picked out clothes and DVDs, housewares, and toys for the 7-year-old twins. One guy got a set of dishes and silverware. Another got bathtowels. The little girl got a sleepover backpack complete with sleeping bag, flashlight, and water bottle. A guy standing in front of the Hot Wheels gave us advice on shopping for the boy, as he had a grandson of the same age. We made a huge point of making sure the two kids got the same size and number of presents, because you know they’re going to compare. The store was packed with frantic xmas-shoppers doing a really shitty job of cart-steering. It was awesome, and it was over way too quick. We made an excellent shopping team, too: I’m good at picking out the perfect thing, she’s good at keeping track of what we had to get. I swear to god, I make shopping lists for three items, and I have to cross them off as I go. Stop laughing at me. For the man who requested only a winter coat with a hood, we found the perfect down jacket on sale at Old Navy. We rushed home and spent the rest of the night wrapping presents and eating pizza on the floor, while distracting the cats with new toys, since they really love to help with the wrapping paper.
Jenni