I am aware that blogging has been a little (okay, a lot) light since last week, but I promise that will change next week. I'm finally getting settled from the whole moving thing and will be able to get into a better blogging routine. I will also have a desk, which is helpful for writing.
Because things have been so hectic, I haven’t been able to put together my weekly Random Thoughts (I haven’t had time to think) so instead I am offering you two stories from my moving day experience, which actually went fairly smoothly all things consider.
Again, I promise I will write more next week, and will return you to your regularly scheduled Random Thoughts next Friday.
I moved on Monday, and that morning my dad and I went to get some furniture out of a storage unit to bring down to the new apartment. We brought the furniture back to my parent’s house in one of those big, unmarked, white child-molester vans my dad rented for the move. Back home, me, my mom, and my dad began loading stuff from my parents house into the aforementioned molester van, so we had to keep making trips back and forth from inside the house back outside to the driveway where the molester van was parked.
During one point we were all outside in the garage -- nobody else was around, so there was nobody in the house -- and my mom went open the door...it was locked. Except it wasn't, because that would be impossible. The door just wouldn't open. We tried three different keys to the house, and none of them worked. The door wasn't going to budge.
I, being quite the sleuth, went around back to look through the patio door, and, sure as shit, the door was, in fact, not locked. It just wouldn't open.
So now we are stuck outside, unable to get in the house because some ghoul put a spell on our door, and neither the back patio, or front screen door can be unlocked by keys, making us literally trapped outside. Being locked out of your house is annoying no matter what, but 10000 times more annoying when you are trying to load a molester van, and make an hour and fifteen minute drive to your new apartment.
After exhausting all options to enter the suddenly impenetrable fortress that was my parents’ house, my mom and dad left to get a locksmith, leaving me to guard everything sitting outside. This wouldn't have been bad, except it was 30 degrees out and I was wearing only a fairly thin sweatshirt -- well and pants, don't too excited. Of course, being that I'm a moron, I didn't think to sit in my car until five minutes before my parents returned with the locksmith. I am quite the thinker.
Anyway, after numerous perplexed facial expressions, and mumbling quote "well this definitely isn't common," (translation: what the fuck did you people do?), the locksmith finally got the door open.
In the end, the ordeal lasted about an hour, gave me a funny story, and caused no real harm. Well, other than the fact that my parents’ house is haunted. But I just moved out so whatever.
Whenever you move into a new place, you have to assume something isn't going to work. That is just the way it goes. In my apartment, the kitchen sink was leaking. Which is annoying, but could have been worse, right?
Enter clogged toilet.
A toilet so clogged, mind you, that no amount of my plunging could dislodge whatever was down the poop chute. (The clogging had nothing to do with my fecal matter, by the way, so this is far less disgusting than you think. More on that in a second.)
By the time the whole toilet clogged incident occurred, it was too late to get maintenance in, and since they were coming in the next day for the sink anyway, I figured I'd just leave it until they came in the morning. Luckily, we (I share an apartment with my brother) have two bathrooms so the situation wasn't as problematic as it could have been.
The next day, a maintenance worker came in and fixed the sink in about fifteen minutes before moving on to the toilet.
After plunging the bastard to no avail, he goes and gets "the snake" to really get down in there and unclog the SOB. He goes at it with his snake (hmmm...nope I'm going to stick with that word choice) for fifteenish minutes before giving up and calling in reinforcements.
A second maintenance worker arrives to begin a two man assault on the toilet. After more dinking around, the workers decide to take the entire unit out and give me a brand new toilet. Which, hey, sweet, new toilet.
After getting through the whole rig-a-ma-roll of taking out the old toilet, and installing the new one, the maintenance guys inform me the clogging culprit was a tube of toothpaste. Yes, whoever lived in the apartment before us flushed a tube of toothpaste down the toilet.
There are ass hole moves. There are huge ass hole moves. There is tricking someone into watching two girls, one cup. And then there is flushing toothpaste down the toilet in your apartment so a future resident has to deal with it.
So congratulations previous tenant, you just raised the bar for ass holery.