I have been uncharacteristically calm this past week. I really have. That is, until around 11:15 this morning when I received a call from our apartment complex saying that our apartment will not be ready until TUESDAY. Umm are you kidding me?? We’re packing the truck tomorrow, closing is Friday, and I start work next week! Unfortunately, the lady on the other hand was quite serious, and it did not take long until my mascara was running down my face as I sobbed in frustration. It’s a good thing for her that she has a thick North Carolina drawl because I find it particularly difficult to hate people with such endearing accents.
Anyway, after many tears AND after calling countless other apartment complexes in the Raleigh area, we realized that we should probably settle on our next best option– a third floor apartment. We were dead set against living on the third floor (honestly, I kind of still am) for a number of reasons, but we can do anything for six months… right? I’m trying to remain optimistic about all of this… no stomping overhead, extra living space in this particular unit, forced exercise up an additional flight of stairs… that’s about it.
Meanwhile, Carson has a cold brewing, Matt reaks of the gasoline he just spilled all over my car, and I am completely unmotivated to deal with this disaster of a house.
Yes, when it rains, it pours. At least Frankenstein dog is doing just famously.