Shit Week, Shit Month
Well roll me over and pop me out of the oven folks, cuz I'm DONE. First Karen's inexplicable and incomprehensible death. Then Nona's equally incomprehensible although much easier explained pregnancy. Next the day of Karen's funeral, the midterm I had was cancelled @ 2 meaning I could have made it.
That was all the stuff that happened last month that sucked dunghole (or at least was very emotionally ''AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH'' inducing).
This week I had a mild concussion due to a misplaced pot and an overly springy restuarant faucet. Due to the after effects of the aforesaid faucet, I was too woozy to notice I was flushing my cell phone down the toilet until the damn thing was clattering up the pipe. So that piece of technomancy isn't working anymore (SAM do you still read Pratchett?!). The next day, the asshole in the living room tells me I have thirty days notice starting April 1st to move out.
That is all the stuff that has happened in the last week that, in every way possible, is quite simply headache inducing.
So once again I am looking for a place to live. My other two roommates are very indignant about me being kicked out and claim that if I'm leaving, they're leaving too. So we have this plan to leave the evil old man in the living a nice April Fools Day Surprise, when he awakens to a household void of exploitable people to pay the rent.
That is the plan but it doesn't cure my headache or the big ol' bitter hole in my heart or the fact that I'm lonesome for my love... and if he were here, then finding a place to live wouldn't be a problem anyway because we'd be living together.
That was all the stuff that happened last month that sucked dunghole (or at least was very emotionally ''AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH'' inducing).
This week I had a mild concussion due to a misplaced pot and an overly springy restuarant faucet. Due to the after effects of the aforesaid faucet, I was too woozy to notice I was flushing my cell phone down the toilet until the damn thing was clattering up the pipe. So that piece of technomancy isn't working anymore (SAM do you still read Pratchett?!). The next day, the asshole in the living room tells me I have thirty days notice starting April 1st to move out.
That is all the stuff that has happened in the last week that, in every way possible, is quite simply headache inducing.
So once again I am looking for a place to live. My other two roommates are very indignant about me being kicked out and claim that if I'm leaving, they're leaving too. So we have this plan to leave the evil old man in the living a nice April Fools Day Surprise, when he awakens to a household void of exploitable people to pay the rent.
That is the plan but it doesn't cure my headache or the big ol' bitter hole in my heart or the fact that I'm lonesome for my love... and if he were here, then finding a place to live wouldn't be a problem anyway because we'd be living together.