Miserable whining. Skip it.
Curse Arashi for advertising appliances right when I'm in the market! I want that little Hitachi vacuum cleaner! Everything I've looked at is so clunky and huge!
Also, I think I drive the only Japanese car in town. All Fords, Chevys, and Buicks. Well, my art-professor neighbor came back from her trip, and she has a Volvo (and is not twice my age, like everyone else on the street -- and apparently it is her internet I am mooching).
I'm not much closer to unpacked, since I had a lovely few days enjoying the trauma of kidney stones. Great way to get to know the new neighbors, begging pathetically for a ride to the ER. The stone has passed now (also fun), but now I get to do lots of tests to see why someone as young as I am has kidney stones. Well, visiting the ER and the urologist has forced some exploration of the new town.
Apparently the entire east side is comprised of churches and dollar stores of various species. I have never heard of "Dollar Respect."
I got back home from exploring and couldn't get into the house. I unlocked the back door, and the knob turns, but I couldn't push the door open. The side door's screen door is slightly broken in a such a way that it can only be opened from the inside. The front door's lock is so tight in its socket that I don't have the physical strength to turn it. I did eventually get in that way, but I bent the key, and the sudden release of the resistance ripped off half my fingernail and a bunch of skin from my hand. I jokingly asked the landlord, when he came home (lives next door), whether the house has a bad history and something is trying to keep me out. No comment on that, but he called a locksmith to come tomorrow and look at both doors.
I spent an awkward hour at the neighborhood block party the other day. I am not actually the only person under fifty in the neighborhood, but the over-fifties were pretty much the only people I could have a conversation with -- because my mother, who had come to nurse me unnecessarily through the kidney stone ordeal, came along to the picnic and was apparently much more interesting than me. I kept explaining that I had moved in, and Mom had come for just a few days to help me settle in, but I'm pretty sure a lot of them are still convinced that she and I are living here together. This is both amusing and depressing.
I wish I had waited another week to move. I could then have moved into a house with a refrigerator and had my kidney stone ordeal in a familiar place.
Also, I think I drive the only Japanese car in town. All Fords, Chevys, and Buicks. Well, my art-professor neighbor came back from her trip, and she has a Volvo (and is not twice my age, like everyone else on the street -- and apparently it is her internet I am mooching).
I'm not much closer to unpacked, since I had a lovely few days enjoying the trauma of kidney stones. Great way to get to know the new neighbors, begging pathetically for a ride to the ER. The stone has passed now (also fun), but now I get to do lots of tests to see why someone as young as I am has kidney stones. Well, visiting the ER and the urologist has forced some exploration of the new town.
Apparently the entire east side is comprised of churches and dollar stores of various species. I have never heard of "Dollar Respect."
I got back home from exploring and couldn't get into the house. I unlocked the back door, and the knob turns, but I couldn't push the door open. The side door's screen door is slightly broken in a such a way that it can only be opened from the inside. The front door's lock is so tight in its socket that I don't have the physical strength to turn it. I did eventually get in that way, but I bent the key, and the sudden release of the resistance ripped off half my fingernail and a bunch of skin from my hand. I jokingly asked the landlord, when he came home (lives next door), whether the house has a bad history and something is trying to keep me out. No comment on that, but he called a locksmith to come tomorrow and look at both doors.
I spent an awkward hour at the neighborhood block party the other day. I am not actually the only person under fifty in the neighborhood, but the over-fifties were pretty much the only people I could have a conversation with -- because my mother, who had come to nurse me unnecessarily through the kidney stone ordeal, came along to the picnic and was apparently much more interesting than me. I kept explaining that I had moved in, and Mom had come for just a few days to help me settle in, but I'm pretty sure a lot of them are still convinced that she and I are living here together. This is both amusing and depressing.
I wish I had waited another week to move. I could then have moved into a house with a refrigerator and had my kidney stone ordeal in a familiar place.