The Holy Grail of apartments is ours!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mer's phone rang. It was Stephen letting us know that the leasing agent called to say my application had been approved.
The real question is where were we when said call was made?
Standing in the parking of lot the apartments-that-were-on-the-bottom-of-our-list-but-we-had-to-keep-our-options-open.
And the building manager was waiting for us in her air conditioned Hyundai Santa Fe.
So, I said to Mer that we were there, so she had to at least look at them, even though we knew that she wasn't going to be renting them.
Meanwhile, Em and I are in car, squealing with delight that Mer would be moving into the Holy Grail of apartments.
Hello pool, gym, mini-theater, social room, sauna and jacuzzi.
A job and an apartment in less than a week. Whodathunkit.
I actually managed to get some work done today. . .the work that brings in the income that sustains us.
Not the apartment/job hunting work that has taken over my life in this past week and made me virtually forget that there are other things I do.
I met with my former honours student/research assistant who is now my colleague because she is going to graduate school.
We're working on a paper we are presenting in Milwaukee this November, at the Film and History conference. The paper is based on her honours thesis, so she is the expert in the area of femme fatales.
But every.single.time we arrange to meet, something happens and I end up doing more crisis management than working.
So today I made it very clear to the girls that we had to have time to write, with no interruptions. Unless someone had limbs dangling, held on with a sliver of skin, bleeding all over the newly renovated mall floor, I didn't want to be disturbed.
And they didn't.
We managed to get the paper narrowed down to two films, with a question we wanted to answer, and the conclusion fleshed out.
This is good news because she is leaving for Ontario at the end of August and experience tells me that she isn't going to have a lot of time to work on this paper while she is in the midst of moving to a new city/setting up her apartment/being introduced to her graduate programme.
This coming from the person who can't manage to get anything done with one adult child moving temporarily into the house I have lived in for the last decade.
It is hotter than Hades today. . . .40 degrees Celcius with the humidex.
One thing that is critical to know about me: I.HATE.HEAT.
I become agitated, cranky, miserable and those are the good things.
Physically, I feel like crap. Nothing works that way its supposed to, or, everything that is only supposed to happen maybe once every two days happens every 15 minutes.
Finally, my hair looks like I am trying to facilitate a revival of 80s big-bar-hair, or that poodles have taken up residence on my head.
So, we I mentioned to Stephen that I might like to spend my evening in the comfort of the air conditioned theater, he reminded me that we have to drive an hour outside of town to look at some sort of stained glass fronted hutch he found on kijiji.
I understand his need to find a hutch, or something that can be construed as a hutch. My grandmother, his parents, his grandparents have inundated us with dishes: entire China dish sets complete with serving dishes, Waterford crystal, novelty mugs, and any other form of dish you can imagine.
Not including, of course, all of the dishes we received when we got married.
And us with absolutely no where to put any of it.
Consequently, we have dishes in boxes all over the house: in the basement, under our bed, in the office, in trunks, in cupboards next to the cat nip and dishwasher pellets.
We need a hutch.
I just don't want to go get it.
I want to sit in an airconditioned theater, eating popcorn and watching movies until at least the middle of September.
Or at least until reasonable temperature return. Something like 15 degrees Celcius.
And I'm going to the theater when we get back. Granted, Em wants to see Charlie St. Cloud, but at this point I'd watch almost anything so long as it there was air conditioning.
Counselling was enlightening. Lots of things were said and reflected upon. Tangible tasks were assigned.
No one wanted to kill anyone when we left.
Most importantly, we're not as dysfunctional as we seem.
Hurrah!
Title lyrics: My Life Would Suck Without You by Kelly Clarkson
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