Life is Busting out ALL Over!

My most excellent, very important not very interesting day

Posted on: August 3, 2007

Today if I had to sum up my luck in life, today would be the day I would put in the dictionary for the word(s?) “Typical Greenleaf”. And if you know me, which you don’t because this bloggy-blog is totally anonymous (and I LOVE that) and NO ONE I know knows I have this thing. And it’s going to stay that way, capesh? Good.

So today I had made an appointment with my future landlord/management company to pick up my keys for the afternoon so I could get into my new pad to scope it out. With all the overwhelming anxiety, etc I didn’t really remember the upstairs of the townhouse. At all.

I got up early today and left the house by 7am. Drove the almost 5 hours* down there. I am literally a block away when the management company calls me:

“Hi greenleaf… this is XYZ management company. We know you are coming down today but greenleaf, we don’t have the keys.”

Hold the phone. Literally. But anyway. WHAT. I knew I couldn’t really pick up my keys until I got into town next weekend so that they could clean and de-grossify. No problem.

Well what the problem was, was (do you ever hate having to use the same word twice like that? I do. I always stop and delete and then realize that, in fact, I have to use it.*) they had given the keys to a vendor who was replacing all the closet doors. He hasn’t returned them and they couldn’t get a hold of him. BASTARD.

So I drove 5 hours* to do what? NOTHING. Ah, my friends this has a totally fairy tale ending. I spun my productive greenleaf wheels and went over to the management company anyway. I gave them my rent check and got info on utilities, which I had started to do but had to stop. Do you ever notice that you could do almost anything online but when it comes to utility companies their websites SUCK MAJOR ASS?? Well, I do.

I then went over to my townhouse, just to see if Bastard closet door guy was there. He wasn’t. But I did push my nose up to the windows and got to see the living room and kitchen, and planned out how to set up my furniture in the living room. But I didn’t get to see the upstairs, obviously, because it’s upstairs. Bollucks.

I still had only been in the town for 45 minutes at this point so I went to the mall. Like any red-blooded American girl would do.

I found bedding that I wanted and I bought a WASHER AND DRYER. I needed to buy one, cause I have hookups’nshit. But holy hell, I have never bought anything that felt so adult. My only sadness is that I’m renting not owning. But I’ll bring little Wendy and Draco (Oh, like you don’t name household objects?) with me where ever I go.

The best part? I totally got a sweet deal on a promotional offer Sears has until tomorrow. And had I actually gone down to hickville to do what I was supposed to do. I would have never had gotten a w/d today and I would have paid out the anus. ew.

So I felt good driving FIVE HOURS back in Indianapolis rush hour (p’shaw, they call it that?) traffic and through Chicago’s (easy peasy today, Lolla peeps I waved to you as I was listening to David Bowie in my car on the LSD. As long as I’m going to stream my conscience, god, I’m going to miss driving on that road).

I think I’m ready to do this thing.

P.S. That new show Greek is fricking AWESOME! R and I have fallen in love with it. And he, a lapsed typical Jeep driving ex-frat boy, and I, the loyal sorority leader I still am, both have found the show to be so entertaining. And honestly, I should get in an uproar about how the sorority women in the show are totally misrepresented and the fraternity men actually look like they come out on top (how’s that for a double entendre?! ha!) but really, I could care less. The show is well written, the kid who plays Rusty is fantastic and he’s from Chicago so you can hear the Chicago accent in his voice. My only issue with the show is that R thinks that he bore more than a striking resemblance to Cappy when he was in school so he laughs REALLY loud at EVERYTHING. I didn’t know him then so I can’t really argue. But still. It rules.

But the highlight? Tomorrow my boy’s back in town. HOLLER.

Nicole Ritchie’s on 20/20, gots to go. Happy weekend Chicago!

*Dear I-65, you can DIE. DIE. I hate you. I hate every boring inch by pavement boring inch of you. Of course I’ll never say this when I’m driving on you because I don’t want you to pop my tire or anything. But you suck and if there was another way that is faster to get to Hickville, Indiana (and believe me I’ve tried every way till Sunday) I would so be on that train. Hmmmm… train.


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musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

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