For the love of Pete, these logistics are getting complicated. I signed my lease to start Nov 10, but my roommate insisted that I pay two full months, even though I gave him 30 days notice (and even though I've been subsidizing his live-in boyfriend for over a year). So whatever, I'll pay the second month. Looks like I've found a sublet for my new place for Nov, but that means I have to move my stuff in early. To complicate things, my new roommate has to move to DC a month earlier than either of us can get into the house. So she's going to crash on the couch of one of my friends, then sublet from my landlords, then, eventually, sublet from me. It also means I have to move in my furniture in two weeks, but sleep in my current house until almost December. Oy. It will work out, and I think I've got it figured out (I won't be sleeping on the floor), but basically, the month of October couldn't get more stressful if I asked Enron to balance my account for the next month.
I asked my friend David to meet me after work because, I think, "I need a fucking beer." Right. Actually, the night turned into an Al Bundy "I was a phenomenal high school [sport] player back in the day, and here's why:" It was kind of fun. He was a great soccer player, and I was a great softball/basketball player, and they're all stories we can't talk about anymore because we can only sit in front of the Tivo and shove our hands down our pants proclaiming we were "Once Great At Football." So, I told him my greatest softball dives that gave me scars for months, and he told me how he broke some dude's leg. Good times.
Also, I get about 20 google hits a day for "solly's." It's a good bar. Ask for the chips, they're worth every penny (ours were free, they're trying out their kitchen). I realize that somehow I've accomplished coming up third on google for Solly's, but look, it's at U and 11th, cheap beer, good environ. I'm hoping once we can get over with my friend Joy, who knows the owner, we can drink for free, but as it is, we were there for HOURS and drank for $15, so I'm not really complaining.
And on another note, doesn't it seem like these days you can't even idly surf the nets without reading that somebody wants you dead? Oh honestly. I think the romance novelists, my massive herd of trolls, and the people who just want me dead should get together and start a blog. WeHateHeather.org! A 501(c)(3) organization. Now that's an RSS feed I would subscribe to. Oh, the passion! The misplaced energy! (I know, I'm totally picking on you this week, Sandy. You're my blog guest of the month, but blog guests get linkage.)
Alright, I have a season finale of Project Runway to go watch.