Well I got everything moved
Now that I’m in a bigger place I am actually pretty incredulous at how much shit I managed to fit into that tiny apartment! And once everything in the house was moved (except for that stinkin dresser!) it was way easier to go through the storage unit and get rid of 2/3 of that stuff.
Trying to get the kitchen under control has been hardest task so far, as I don’t have as much space at all, though my new roommate has been more than generous with cupboard and drawer space. But it’s basically cramming a full, well-equipped kitchen into another moderately equipped kitchen.
I didn’t get the old place cleaned out completely yesterday, which I expected to do in about 4 hours. Had to tackle the oven again with actual oven cleaner instead of vinegar and baking soda.
Hopefully it worked because the manager said the fridge and stove were the most important parts of the walk through. They know the carpet is shit, they know the place is gonna need painting (and the husband of the team is even going to primer over the red and blue walls for me in effort to help me get my deposit back!). They also are going to have to do any maintenance things so I want to leave it as clean as possible for them. They’ve been really good to me and I’d feel terrible leaving them with a mess. The deposit isn’t much, but well worth a few hours of cleaning.
My moving crew was amazing. With so many people helping and a couple of people taking charge of packing the van and gathering up awkward stuff and putting in their cars for safe transport, it went really fast and nothing got broken. The biggest tragedy was that Gramma’s jewelry box got taken to the I-haul accidentally (I was going to hand carry it with me) and dropped, with contents going everywhere. I had a minor panic but tried to be cool. Whatever piece rolled under a bedside table was never found, I hope it wasn’t valuable. (I’m grimacing.)
And of course now that I’m here I have every intention of being the best roommate I can be, and staying for a good long time—at least 2 years. I was in the last place for 6, and the time just flew by. But of course I was living by myself and no conflict with invisible roommates. Le sigh.
The roommate is interesting. She’s a sweet lady but has her idiosyncratic ways of course. And she is so full of anger from her sister/exroomate, who is moving out in a week. She bitches about everything the sister has done/didn’t do and it makes me a little afraid I’m not going to be able to live up to her exacting standards.
I said something about it yesterday, because a lot of my unpacked stuff is cluttering up the counter, “sorry this stuff is all untidy and a mess, I’ll get it put away when I get that shelf space” (which has yet to be cleared in the pantry). And she agreed that it couldn’t stay there but then goes “my sister has you all worried that I’m such a tyrant! I’m not as finicky as she says I am!” I haven’t even talked to her sister more than twice because she’s been gone and just popped in for a few minutes—long enough to get my cat locked in her room.
I don’t think roomie #1 realizes that it’s what she herself is saying that is making me think she’s a tyrant! Hopefully when the sister moves out she can get over her anger and won’t just direct it at me instead.
"My response to the “I am not a feminist” internet phenomenon….
First of all, it’s clear you don’t know what feminism is. But I’m not going to explain it to you. You can google it. To quote an old friend, “I’m not the feminist babysitter.”
But here is what I think you should know.
You’re insulting every woman who was forcibly restrained in a jail cell with a feeding tube down her throat for your right to vote, less than 100 years ago.
You’re degrading every woman who has accessed a rape crisis center, which wouldn’t exist without the feminist movement.
You’re undermining every woman who fought to make marital rape a crime (it was legal until 1993).
You’re spitting on the legacy of every woman who fought for women to be allowed to own property (1848). For the abolition of slavery and the rise of the labor union. For the right to divorce. For women to be allowed to have access to birth control (Comstock laws). For middle and upper class women to be allowed to work outside the home (poor women have always worked outside the home). To make domestic violence a crime in the US (It is very much legal in many parts of the world). To make workplace sexual harassment a crime.
In short, you know not what you speak of. You reap the rewards of these women’s sacrifices every day of your life. When you grin with your cutsey sign about how you’re not a feminist, you ignorantly spit on the sacred struggle of the past 200 years. You bite the hand that has fed you freedom, safety, and a voice.
In short, kiss my ass, you ignorant little jerks.”
Q: Why didn’t Anna & Elsa’s parents teach them the whole alphabet? A: ‘Cause they got lost at C.
Daisy and Donald Duck in Walt Disney’s Cured Duck (1945)