I have my very cool earphones on, and the current song is…Immortality, by Pearl Jam. (It’s okay if you don’t know who that is…. ).
James is playing on his Play Station and is currently involved in some sort of chase, involving a car he stole and …… he just drove over like 6 people. I think it was an accident. He rides a scooter in real life so I don’t think it’s a reflection of his character.. hahha.
Life has been fun. And by fun, I mean… real. My surgery has been indefinitely put off because my ear is healing on its own it appears. The ENT made a point of telling me I smelled really bad the last time I was there though – and said she had to aerate the consulting room because me and my friend Bev smelled so strongly of smoke that we left it behind. She hoped she hadn’t offended me.
Really? You make all these grossed out faces and wave your arms around and say THAT to me – and THEN ask me if I am offended? YES, I am offended. I have cut down from 60 to 15 cigarettes in the space of two weeks, had two MOLARS pulled because they may have had infection in them – and having used the nose sprays and ear drops and been VERY obedient for someone who is usually NOT – and you wonder why I get all twitchy when you say I smell bad enough to have to open windows – Oh, and after ALL THAT, I may not need surgery??
Tell that to the two molars I had yanked WITHOUT anesthetic. And remind me why I must be agreeable when I am being told I smell funky, with such a dramatic demonstration of grossed-out-ed-ness.
So… to recap… I smell like an ashtray, I look like a hill billy when I smile, and I now smoke a ‘twisp’ instead of real cigarettes, all because I no longer need surgery. *Disclaimer: Or MAYBE you may need surgery in a few years – oh and by the way you have small cholesteatoma in the other ear. (Tumour).
My mom will likely kill me for this post. She was there, and should be in all my doctor’s appointments – as a buffer / safety of the doctors. She translates my death stare facial expressions, and starts many of her sentences with ‘…What Sam is trying to say is…’. Love you, Ma.
My house is still full of tenants is never dull. People are coming and going.
As it stands, there is me and James. I attempted to clean the cages of his spiders a few days ago. I broke one’s leg… but the rest survived me dangling them upside down off of Tupperware container lids. The ‘Tiger Rump’ who’s leg I broke moved too fast and my reflex was to close the lid. But the poor spider wasn’t all the way in yet. So… he now has a leg that points in a weird direction.
James wasn’t too phased. Thank heavens. If it dies though… wow…. The guilt that will follow.
Then there is a girl who lives here. She is possibly one of THE MOST fiery tempered people I have ever met. And yes.. I know that can be said of me… but even James says that if we ever fight, I better just knock her out and get over with because if I don’t – HOLY MOLY…..
Last night she got into a fight with someone on the phone and was punching stuff in her room and im pretty sure the whole complex heard every word. And then she comes down stairs, all skinny and fragile looking and smiles at you like nothing just happened.
We had an interesting moment when I told her that there was oil on the garage floor, and that I didn’t care how but she better clean it. Her facial expression for at least 5 seconds was one that I imagine a serial killer would have right before gleefully making a lamp out of someone’s skin. Realising that she wasn’t capable of answering me while thinking about killing me – I just said ‘fix it’ and walked away. The next day she came home with all sorts of cleaning stuff, and I am still alive – so we will see.
Then there is Logan. Logan is an Indian man who is actually married with kids. He hates his mother in law so he won’t live in the same house as her (with wife and kids) while they buy a new house. He is an odd egg, and he is very awkward. He will stand and watch you playing online scrabble or watch James play PS4 but he looks around like he is doing something wrong – or hearing voices – or… waiting for his wife to surprise him. He was complaining that he has never had to make his bed in his life, and that living in my house has made him have to do that.
I couldn’t tell if he was joking so I just said that I don’t believe in maids making beds. I sleep in it, I must make it. He looked like I had just blasphemed… and was genuinely horrified that I would say that.
He also says that my dogs are the only two living things that listen to him. I caught him calling them, and making them sit, and then getting them excited so that he could tell them to sit again. I told him that if he undoes the training I have done – I will let my cat sleep on his bed when he is not here. (He has an allergy).
And that’s it so far. I have an open room which I am advertising. The most common question I get asked is ‘are the other tenants cool?’
“Define Cool”
“Like… cool.”
“No. We are not cool. We don’t drink, and we don’t do drugs. There is no club house or pool in the complex. Unless you mean mentally unstable – in which case, yes.. there is a LOT of that.”
“Oh.”
“Interested?”
————— Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
So ya. If I put ‘Clean and Sober House’ in the advert, no one answers, and when I don’t, I have Nigerian’s, men who have just gotten divorced and want to know if I have internet so they can talk to online mates, and young folk who are hoping that a model, and a celebrity eat at some imaginary pool side club house…. So that all can be FUN and COOL. Seriously… like putting a Nigerian in a house with ex addicts is a good idea??
For those of you that have made it to the end of this post, you rock. Those that haven’t – bleh.
Love you all. Especially because you actually read my randomness.
Mocking Bird Down 