My life has been oddly devoid of windows lately. At work, there are no windows to speak of. It mostly feels like I'm in a basement or bomb shelter. Although my office is plenty spacious, it can still be claustrophobic at times. To combat these feelings, I make sure to go outside for plenty of cigarette breaks.
I'm living at my mother's house again. I've been here almost a week now and it's going well, save for the lack of privacy and freedom. But oddly enough, my bedroom only has one small window, which actually looks into the front room. I have no sunshine, no cool breeze. I live in a house that has a beach in the backyard, yet the room I sleep in has no real window. I'm not sure why I find this so funny, but I do.
Don't get me wrong, it's great for weekend mornings when I want to sleep until 1:00 without having annoying sunshine wash over my face at the crack of dawn. In the afternoons, it takes on the qualities of a cave. But it's cozy. And there's cable.
It was strange and bittersweet moving out of my apartment last week. Everything happened so fast, I'm not sure I've really processed what happened. The move went pretty smoothly - I arrived at my mother's later that day, weighed down with sadness bordering on despair, to find that my step-father had set up my entire room for me. That guy can be a big loud boar most times, but he really does have a good heart. I almost hugged him. Almost.
As much as I love my family, it's quite an adjustment spending all day, every day with them. I feel bad when they want me to watch tv with them every night, but I need my alone time. I've come to cherish my insomnia, as it's time just for me. Now please don't misunderstand - it's completely great getting to spend so much time with my mom and brother. And getting to know and understand my soon-to-be brother-in-law better has been lovely. (There were a lot of hyphens in that sentence.) But I'm an adult and I've lived alone for 2 1/2 years...so suddenly living with 3 guys, 3 dogs, and a cat is definitely a change. Thankfully, everyone's been really understanding of my needs, so there have been no problems. But it's only been a week, so I won't be too optimistic. I can be quite a pill to live with at times.
As for developments with the apartment situation, I'm still figuring that out. The brother-in-law has a lawyer friend who is trying to help me. My favorite part is that my Amish Landlord (AL) keeps upping the amount of money I supposedly owe him. It went from the $1200 I actually now owe, to $4200, to now over $5000. He was trying to say I have paid nothing since October. Right before I moved out, I got a new letter from his lawyer saying I haven't paid since January of 2009. The whole thing is laughable, really. Since I know I don't owe them that much money, are they implying that I paid, only to steal it back from them? I mean, what do they think I do? Sneak down to the office at night, cat burglar style? Cut the glass, climb in, locate a safe, and crack it open? (I'd use a stethoscope to hear the combination first, of course. I've always wanted to do that.) You're totally right, AL. I've been keeping my spoils in a Swiss bank account since January 2009. At this point, I'm a thousand-aire. Go trim your dangly sideburns and creepy, out-of-control beard.
I'm going to LA next week with my brother and brother-in-law (BIL). We spent last Saturday scoping out apartments online and found a few really nice looking ones, so BIL is making appointments for us to go see a few while we're out there. I'm so excited to finally see where I'll be living in three months. It had better be good or Life. Will. SUCK.
In other news:
-Jim Carrey and Jenny McCarthy broke up yesterday. I'm so upset about this, you'd think I knew them.
-Kate Gosselin on DTWS is the biggest joke to ever come out of that show. And they've had Donny Osmond.
-I get teary eyed every time I see a promo for Lost because I already miss it.
-Kim Kardashian and Reggie Bush broke up again. In other news, I'm sick of the Kardashians.
-Jesse James entered sex rehab last week. I think I may pretend to have a sex addiction just to see what goes on in those rehab centers. "Ok, today, we're going to work on not thinking about boobs." Are there 12 steps to this program? Do they hold hands and pray together, or would that be like waving a beer under someone's nose at an AA meeting? Do they have sponsors they can call when they feel like relapsing? "Sponsor? Hey, it's Jesse. Listen, I have a boner right now, and I reaaaaally want to put it somewhere. Help." I must research this...
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