The End?

It could be a startling revelation: I may no longer be able to eat cake. We had a going away party for our friend Kyrgee, and perhaps mixing hard cider with cake was the wrong way to go. I tried eating a leftover piece yesterday and it tasted awful. I may have screwed up my love of vanilla cake, which is a pity because I love loving cake. Must try chocolate cake to see if I still love it. If not, I hope Angel B's doesn't close since they won't be getting my business anymore.

I hope it doesn't come to that. But perhaps this is a good thing, 53 days from the wedding....

We are Deer Whisperers

Last night, Wiley and I went for a walk. I took him on the Clear Creek Trail, a place he'd never been in his 5 years here! While we were walking, Wiley asked me what else there was to see besides the sidewalk, trees and grass, and I told him that sometimes you can see geese, and just at that moment, he stopped me because he saw a fawn. He was about 30 feet away, and we stopped, and he looked like he was going to run, but I tugged on Wiley's arm and we turned away and started walking. So what did he do? He bounded after us. But we kept walking, and looked over our shoulder, and he kept bounding a little at a time, swishing his little tail up and down. I've never been followed by a deer, and had he been bigger, I might've been a bit alarmed. He kinda reminded me of my dog, Cricket, because he had such big ears and they were tuned on us. A biker was coming from the other direction, and his tires on the pavement made a noise that scared the fawn back into the brush, but then farther down our walk, we saw another one cross to the other side of the trail. No, we don't have much to look at on the trail, but sometimes you glance around and notice that nature is also observing you.

Catching Up.

Lots has happened here in Bloomington in the past week. We have moved the cats from Temp House 1 to Temp House 2, and the transition apparently has not gone smoothly. Rewind and Dixie have been placed in a lovely room with a window, but there's another cat in the house, who is rather possessive of her digs. Rewind, being the little aggressive shit that he is, makes guttural growls that could replace the demon in The Exorcist, and has frightened the somewhat-aggressive residing cat into the basement. I'm tempted to pull him out just to make sure his health doesn't deteriorate. Into the storage unit for him.

We got Wiley's suit, and it looks smashing. I waited and waited for the sale to grab his shirt - who wants to pay $45 for a shirt? Anyone? Sorry, if you do, I don't get you. I don't want to pay $45 for a shirt. So I didn't. And I got it on sale! And two ties too. Today he took the pants in to be hemmed. I still have to take my dress and slip in. He's ahead of me.

Still waiting on the sample bouquet from the florist. Apparently her dealers don't have the goods in stock to make a silk bouquet. Aren't fake flowers around all the time? Especially to replace the ones in the pots that are dying because it's so damn hot??

Invitation responses are flowing, and more people so far are coming than are not. None of my family members have sent in their cards. Don't you know that you're coming? Hello?? Auntie Em?

Wiley got shorn today. He won't need a haircut again until after the wedding. His head almost looks normal-sized right after he gets it cut. For those of you who don't know him, he has a ginormous head. I used to joke with him that I felt sorry for his wife.

We'll be in KC on the 16th to see some friends and order Wiley's ring. Think I'm looking forward to the 8 hour car ride? Think again. Oh, yes, I look forward to some Oklahoma Joe's and Corner Cafe and Abuelo's, not to mention those friends, but man, do you know what's between Indiana and Missouri? That's right - Illinois. Slow driving. And more of the same that's in Indiana and Missouri: cows, tall grass, and road kill. Mm mm good.

We found the TV show Weeds. Love it. I'm going to miss cable. Having it for this month has been nice. There are these channels that play nothing but music. Have you ever?! Yeah, I know, get in the 21st century already. No! I'll not be a slave to my belongings! I chuckle as I sit at my laptop and Wiley sits at his. Sigh.

Can't win them all. Oh, but I did finally beat Wiley twice at racquetball. Fairly. And finally. I rule.

Can't Wait For Sunday.

Sunday is a day where I have absolutely nothing that I have to do for anyone else. No work. No going anywhere except to feed the cats. Nothing.

I wish it was Sunday.

Aside from that, yesterday was the last day I ever have to deal with that shitty duplex. Funny how in only 4 months opinions can change. I went from being so ecstatic that I'd found a relatively inexpensive place to live to not being able to wait to move out (crappy landlord and flooding certainly helped darken the mood about my living conditions - and let's not forget to give Cornhole Joe an honorable mention, though he moved out of his duplex about a month ago).

So now we have exploded in true Wiley fashion at our temp digs, which we will try to put away this weekend. (Spices spices everywhere!) And the cats have been moved to their temp digs, and so far have done ok, but Dixie didn't eat much last night, and I'm sure she's hungry this morning.

And now that we have a bit more time for other things, we have started playing racquetball on a fairly regular basis, which is fun and sorely needed to make sure I fit into that dress. Wiley beats me every.single.time. And I missed the day in school when being a good sport was taught. So I use every tactic I can in order to distract him. Recently it's been singing "When the moon hits your eye like a big (and then I put in some odd word here), that's amore." I was able to keep ahead of him for most of the game, but when he decides he's had enough he hits these super power shots - low and fast that I have no hope of returning. But I'm working on it. I study him while he's playing and try to pick up what I can. Someday, I will beat him!!

We Made It.

As true to my word, we arrived at 8:00 a.m. at Budget Truck Rental and surveyed the lot. Plenty of trucks had been dropped off overnight. Someone else came by, looked at the sign, noticed they didn't open until 9, and left. I planted my butt 3 feet in front of the store door and greeted Elizabeth 15 minutes later when she walked up. Half an hour later, another couple showed up, and five minutes after that, another person showed up. When one lady arrived right at 9:00, she said, "There's already a line? You've got to be kidding me." No, ma'am. Apparently most of us had been called yesterday and been informed of the first-come-first-served-your-reservation-don't-mean-squat-to-us spiel, so we were all ready to go.

The big stuff, as I call it, was moved into the truck, and out of the truck, rather effortlessly. That's probably because Wiley and GinnTacos loaded it, while I looked at their bad pack job. (We didn't need to pack it to the top, as most everything else had been moved. Seriously!) Everything we took over to the new house was put into the garage, and it fit. We thought we might be able to rearrange the bins, bed, desk, dresser, chairs, and ottoman after the actual owners of the house had vacated in order to get our car into the garage, but I don't really see that happening, and I'm ok with that. (We'll see how I feel in December when I go out to a freezing car!)

So now we are at the Temp House. Yesterday as we brought a few things over, people were already here, watching baseball. It was kinda awkward and I wonder if they'll be walking in on us (I doubt it, but I'll still make sure the doors are locked to give me a little notice if someone walks in.)

And now it's the beginning of Shark Week on Discovery! Not having had a TV with cable for the past 5 months, I've developed an appreciation for it. And I got to watch a shark give birth, which sounds kinda gross, but it's very cool.

So it's back to the old house to clean up, move the last remaining things, and feed the cats until later this week when they go to their new temp home. Then to the grocery store for cake. I can't fight this feeling anymore.

Maybe Buying a Truck Would be a Good Thing After All...

Budget Rental Truck called me at 8:00 this morning, not identifying themselves at all. Originally, when I heard the message, I thought my florist was calling me telling me she was unable to make my bridal bouquet, but after listening to the message again, I realized that my reservation for a truck was in vain.

We made this reservation in May. We called earlier this week to confirm. So getting a call today was a little surprising. I called back.

"I'm sorry but we don't have a truck for you today," Elizabeth, the harried Budget Truck gopher, said.

"That's interesting, and unfortunate," I said, "if I had had a reservation for today. However, my reservation, that I made in May, and that I confirmed earlier this week, says I'm picking up a truck tomorrow."

"I show your reservation for today."

"Well, I guess your computer made a mistake because I have the confirmation email that says Sunday, July 27. So are you going to have a truck for me tomorrow?"

"I don't know," she said. "Our reservation center overbooked us (register my shock) and didn't shut down when they should have, and since we don't know when people made their reservations, it's first come first served. But I'll call you later this afternoon and update you."

Did she call? Of course not. So I called her 5 minutes before closing.

"So," I said, "if I show up tomorrow morning, and I'm the first one there, then the first truck that comes into the lot tomorrow morning should be my truck, right?"

Silence. Then a tentative, "I guess I could do that..."

I pressed, "Well, that is the first-come first-served way of doing things, right? That is what you mean, right?"

Is she used to dealing with idiots?

"I'll be there at 8," I said.

"We don't open until 9," she told me.

"I'll still be there at 8. I'm going to be the first one there, and I'll pick up the first truck on the lot tomorrow. I'll be outside while you open the store."

I've never been one to be somewhere so early that I can see people open the store, and I'm sure that it makes them uncomfortable. When I worked retail and people would be milling about outside for their BOGO fix, I hated the fact that I could see them and they could see me readying the store for the day's excitement. Didn't they have something better to do?

However, it seems that reservations mean nothing to Budget. And it's not like we have a truck or trailer that we can borrow at our whim. So I'll be putting on my curb-kicking shoes and getting my butt to the rental facility early, and I'm planting my butt right in front of the store door.

Where are all the Good Humans?

Do you remember a time when somebody said they'd do something, and they'd actually do it? When someone's word actually meant something? I miss those days.

My landlord called me a liar. He likened me to the Boy Who Cried Wolf because I told him the oven was emitting a funny smell, and now smoke, albeit white, light smoke, not something to fill up the entire house, even after he supposedly looked at it. "I'll come over Sunday," he said. I emailed and texted him late Sunday. No response. I emailed Monday, asking if he was coming on Monday. "Well, the AC worked every time I came over to look at it (which was a lie because the first time it acted up, he was here and called the repairman himself), and it worked every time the repairman came (when he came a few days later and somehow the AC repaired itself). And I came over last week and didn't smell or see anything (the guy has told me he doesn't have a very sensitive nose), so I don't know what to do..."

Hmm..let's ponder. You're the friggin' landlord and you don't know what to do? You take care of your property. You fucking show up when you say you're going to, asshole. You actually come over WHEN I'M HOME so I know you're not making it up when you say you came over. You investigate the issue more than just turning a knob and standing there for 30 seconds (if you really did come over). You don't tell my fiance that I'm the tenant who cried wolf. Where would that get me? I'm trying to be a responsible tenant so YOUR property isn't damaged, and you reward that caution with a backhanded "By the way, I think you're a liar" by comparing me to a boy in a story who wanted attention? You are a slumlord, and I feel sorry for the people renting this after me. Karma's going to bite you in the ass someday, and when it does, I am going to have one hell of a smile on my face.