This is the high water mark of the summer.
In May, I finished finals and managed to survive the relentless hanging out with my law school people before they went off to their summer clerkships, study abroad countries, and odd family vacations.
June was all about reconnecting with the non-law school friends I neglected in May. And birthdays. It felt like every-other-day was someone’s birthday. I ran out of cards. Oh, and there was some dating too…. a pride parade, and some business about music production.
July started with loud-ass fireworks, my birthday, and heat. Lots of heat. And thunderstorms. And tornadoes. And hairspray (this is all very dramatic.)
There was also the epic move to the downstairs apartment and a dozen trips to Ikea, Target, and Home Depot. You can call me Tim Allen. Where’s Pamela?
In addition to drilling and the crap-load of cleaning associated with moving, I also became the building caretaker. That means I have to field the craziest phone calls from people who want apartment showings.
One lady left three voicemail messages within 10 minutes. Another thought that she could – possibly – have a serious eviction, and wondered if that might be a problem.
Maybe, girl.
Maybe.
These crazies prospective tenants usually want showings in the middle-of-the-day, which means my work schedule resembles that of an overnight gas station clerk without the threat of robberies or free soda.
I only do showings on Sunday now because the prospective tenants like to cancel on me 10 minutes before our odd-middle-of-the-day appointments which I rescheduled my life around. No longer! They can see the open apartment on Sunday or move into the crack motel down the street. I’m taking a stand, damn it! Hear my roar.
Another kink my workweek was my Physical Evidence class, which finally ended. I still need to write a paper for it, but I no longer have to work around that bizarre 4:30pm-7pm time slot.
The lack of internet in my apartment is also horrid. Bethenny got married and I MISSED IT! During the past few weeks I had to sneak to Dunn Brothers or Spyhouse to blog, which involves dealing with more wilting Madonnas than I have the energy for.
I have an appointment with my internet provider after tomorrow’s dog training class, so I should be online tomorrow afternoon? Maybe? We’ll see. If not, I’ll ask my trainer how to train Harley to leave an expression of my gratitude in front of their offices.
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