I’ll probably come back with Syphillus

My Dad is a penny pincher.  He has also insisted on paying for the hotel in Savannah, Georgia, and knowing my dad, I knew this hotel wouldn’t be anything grand.  Still, I don’t need fancy hotels – just a clean bed to sleep in for a night.  When he offered and gave me information about the place I thought, hey, what a nice thing to do!   I came across the reviews for this particular hotel while searching for the address, and out of 13 reviews, 11 people deemed it “terrible”, and multiple people have commented that the health department should get involved.  Here are the jewels:

“This place should be condemned.”

“Yuck!  Dirty!  Stay away!”

“Worst hotel I ever stayed at!!!! I am contacting the Georgia Board of Health!”

“…worst experience we’ve had in traveling in the past 20 years.”

“Dirtiest hotel I’ve ever seen.  Scary!”

“I had to line the bathroom floors with towels so my children could walk.”

Thanks, Dad!  I hope this room comes with complimentary penicillin.

Road trip

I’m taking a little vacation down to Florida in 11 days.  My sister and oldest nephew are coming with me and we’re driving the whole way there.  Well, I am.  The nephew is still a kid and the sister is an inexperienced driver, so I’ll be manning the wheel for 17 hours.  The plan is to leave on the 12th at about 3am, and drive for 10 hours down to Savannah, Georgia and stay the night in a hotel after walking around indulging in a little southern hospitality.  The following day, driving another 7 hours down to Florida to see my Dad.   I’m very excited about this trip.

The obvious problem:  how do you keep an autistic kid entertained in a car for 10 hours on one day, and 7 hours the next?  I suspect someone will have Grumpypants Syndrome.   That, or he’ll be super hyper from all the exictement of new places and the promise of seeing his Grandpa, and Hyperpants is about as bad as Grumpypants.  Part of the appeal of leaving at 3am is knowing he’ll sleep in the car part of the way on the first day, and the other part of the appeal means we’ll get to Savannah early enough to do a little sightseeing.   After being in a car for 10 hours, I’m betting we’ll all be very happy to put on our walking shoes.

The other problem:  what are good places to see in Savannah?  Budget is tight, so we’re going with the free touristy stuff like walking around and taking in the beauty of the town, but where is the most beautiful?   We’re only there for one day and I want to make the most of it.  I was thinking of Forsyth Park and just walking around to see the old houses and mansions, but which streets should I focus on and which streets should I steer clear of?   I don’t want to waste time, you know?

The Florida portion of the trip is pretty easy – we’re seeing my Dad and hitting the beach.   Let’s hope this is different from the last time I was in Florida when I spent three days in a hotel, unable to move from all the blisters on my sunburned skin.

Where I worry about my cat, like the crazy cat lady that I am

Remember when Smokey’s eye was infected?  It’s still a little watery and not quite right thanks to the roommates being idiots and not giving their cat the medicine she needs.  Grrr.  Don’t get me started on this.

Because I live with an idiot, my cat is now sick with an infected eye as well.  My Molly!  It worries me and absolutely breaks my heart to see her in discomfort.   I’m very  attached to her, so she’s the cat I worry most about.  I know it’s a terrible thing to have favorites, but I feel like the other cats can adapt to situations better than Molly can.  With her, she doesn’t like anyone else.  The major complaint other people have about her is that she’s “mean” and “unaffectionate”, but she’s exactly the opposite.  She’s extremely shy and even though she’ll tolerate other people, she prefers to spend 90% of her day in my bedroom or following me around the apartment.   I have to shoo her out of the bathroom when I take a shower or else she’d happily sit beside the tub and wait for me if I let her.  My lap is the only lap she has ever curled up on.   Seeing her in pain just kills me.  I can’t stand it.

She has a vet appointment on Wednesday, but in the meantime she’s hiding out in my bedroom and I’m worrying, but maybe I can sleep now that I vented a little bit.

Strange ducklings

If Smokey the One Eyed Kitten wants to nurse from the teat of Wallace, my male dog, then who am I to judge?

You’re a good little momma, Wally.

What I’ve been up to

Working.  A lot.  And worrying about money.  The two go hand in hand.

I’m free for the next two days with no obligations and I plan on enjoying every damn second of it.  Tonight I went to buy some healthy snacks and walked out of the store $130 poorer.  How does salads, veggies, fruits, a single curtain and a Boston Creme Pie add up to that?  I still can’t figure it out.  Oh well.  The fridge is stocked with baby carrots, grapefruit, lemons, grapes, cucumbers, etc.  I know the Boston Creme Pie isn’t exactly a healthy snack, but I’m no saint.  Ok, ok.  And a bag of Dorito’s that’s flavored like tacos.  Sue me.

My sister thought it would be a good idea to bring a tiny kitten home last week.   I came home from work and this kitten was just sitting there, being cute like kittens are, and then I noticed that one of it’s little eyes was sealed shut with dried puss and oozing.   I mentioned this to my wonderful sister who replied, “Oh, I didn’t notice.”  How do you NOT notice?   So, I spent $90 taking the poor thing to the vet.   She sneezed the whole way there but she gets to keep her yucky eye.  Her name is Smokey, but I don’t call her that.  I call her Bandit because she has the one good eye, and we have cuddle parties.   She likes to climb up on my shoulder, curl up under my hair and purr against my ear.  It tickles.  I’ll take pictures of her soonish.

This happens a lot

Last night I had a dream about strawberries.  It was the only bit of any dream from last night that I remember, but there was a woven basket of big, beautiful, red, ripe strawberries and I wanted to buy them but they were too expensive.  Earlier today I walked outside to the mailbox to get my mail and I noticed smashed strawberries all over the sidewalk.   I know it’s a coincidence that the only thing I remember from my dream was covering the sidewalk outside of the apartment, but this happens a lot, and you know what?  It bugs me.  It makes me think there’s more to those strawberries than I realize.

I look worse than I am

Not even an hour after I published the previous post to this blog I started vomiting and passing out.   As you know, I’d rather puke every day for the rest of my life than blackout because I hate it that much, but it seems like my body doesn’t take my preferences into consideration.   How rude!

The EKG was fine and my heart is healthy so it was most likely a bug of some kind.   If you thought the description from last time was bad then you should see the bruise on my arm where the IV blew my vein.   It looks like my arm is turning into a gigantic blueberry like that girl from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory.   And I made chicken curry & rice for dinner and boy, oh boy, that’s some delicious shit.

Yeah, I think that covers it.

Oh!  And I’ll probably turn into a leper soon after pressing “publish”, but that’s ok.  I like living dangerously.

I work hard for the money. So hard for it, honey.

There is a blister on my pinky toe that is roughly the size of my pinky toe.  So basically my pinky toe is double in size and I feel like one of those cartoon character with a throbbing, dramatic injury.  Also, it’s infected.  Ouch!

There is another blister on the sole of the same foot, under the big toe.  Hurts, but not infected.  On the other foot, other pinky toe, there is another blister.  Small, non-infected and the lesser of the foot evils.  And a blister on the underside of my index finger near the bend.   And a huge bruise on my knee.

See?   I would blog more, but I’m so delicate my fingertips would bleed.

Not feeling at home, sweet home.

I moved.  Question to no one in particular:  how long after moving does it take you to feel at home and not a guest in a strange place?

There are some serious lighting issues in this apartment.  In my bedroom there are no lights at all, but curiously, there IS a light switch.  I thought that when I moved in and plugged a lamp in to one of the sockets that the light switch would be useful for turning on the lamp, but that turned out to be false.  The light switch is there to look pretty and remind me of a time (a better time) when a light switch served a purpose and a home felt like a home.

Maybe things will feel better once Molly and Wally come over later today.  There was an issue with the pet deposit – it cost $200 for the option to have a pet, but I guess I was confused because I thought $200 and I could have both pets.  Turns out, it’s $200 PER pet.  After the move, I am so broke my wallet makes screeching noises when I open it, so Wally can thank The Guy for being my hero and coming to my rescue on this one.   He’s like a knight in shining armour on a white horse with a $200 check.  Not sure how my ass got this lucky, but I’ll take it.

Saving the best for last.. I’ve never been the kind of person who feels comfortable enough to poop anywhere.  Never did it at work, or in public restrooms, friend’s places, etc.  As you can imagine, it’s not happening here either.   Not feeling at home is making me constipated.   Bodies!  Fun stuff.

Derby Festival is serious business.

Last weekend I went to Kentucky as they kicked off the beginning of Derby Festival.  There was an air show, fireworks, lots of AC/DC, Top Gun soundtrack and drunk, shirtless people all on the river bank.  It was a fun time.  I took 476 pictures that day and I still have to go through all of them, but here are some that I’ve uploaded already.

Go, underdog, GO!

I finally figured out what it is about this video that makes me cry so much:  I love when underestimated people can shut up a crowd.   Beautiful.

Standing ovation, BITCHES!

You knew this was coming.

Tweet tweet.

My sister bought two Budgies yesterday.  Our Grandma had a huge bird named Polly for years that would say things like “Elvis?  Is that YOU?!”  I wasn’t a fan of the bird because it looked like it would take off one of my fingers if it had the chance, and I’m not a big fan of birds in general.  Plus, I think it’s kind of mean to keep something in a cage that was meant to fly.  It bugs me.  My sister’s argument to this was, “but you keep Wally!  and the cats!”  True, I do, but they aren’t in a tiny cage.  They have free roam of the house, a huge backyard and two of them have free roam of the neighborhood and they come back.  I think they like it here.  Especially now that there are two birds that they see as snacks in a cage, which somehow ended up in MY bedroom.  One of the cats sat outside my bedroom and meowed and pawed at the door all night and the birds haven’t chirped once until this morning.

So.. birds.  They’re not my thing.  My sister takes after my Grandma and loves them and I do not.   This morning one of them perched on my finger and wouldn’t get off of it, and as sweet as it as, I’m still on the bird’s side.  I talked to them and told them I’d bust them out as soon as their poor clipped wings grow back and we find ourselves living in Australia.

The longest year of my life.

I love you and miss you, Mom.  Time drags by without you.

The last picture actually made me laugh a little bit because at first I thought, “Mom looks tired in this picture”, but if you look closely, it’s easy to see why.  In the background you’ll see my older sister getting into mischief, and in the bottom right hand corner is my chunky baby leg.  She had her hands full.

One of my favorite things.

What I love about dogs:  when I pet them, they lean their body against my legs and it feels like a hug.   It never fails in making me smile, feel safe and comforted.  Even when I have a water logged house that I have to deal with.

Screwed.

I went to the house today to do the pre-move cleaning, and I walked into moldy ceilings, warped floors that are about to cave in and a flooded basement.   It’s completely unlivable from all of the water damage and I’m back to square one.

It’s a tearful damn day.  That is all.

Oh, crap.

The madness is setting in.

Electricity, water and gas will all be turned on by Tuesday, and the cable/internet/phone will be installed on the 30th.   My things have to be there at that time to ensure everything is in working order, so I’m moving in on the 29th.   That is in eight days, and I haven’t started to pack yet.   I should think about doing this soon, huh?  Luckily, I don’t have that much crap, and yes, I know – I say this now but when moving day rolls around and my life is in boxes I’ll think I have too much crap, but this is where I’m glad I’m not a knick knack/tchotchke sort of girl. Where one person might have a collection of tiny, ceramic angels, I prefer to use that space with a framed photograph.. and I have a lot of that, but they’re flat and stackable and easy to pack.  No problem.

I’m going up to the house on Tuesday to clean like a crazy woman, set up mousetraps (ick) and basically douse the place with bleach while I wait for the water company to show up and turn shit on.  Unfortunately there was some food left in the refrigerator that we forgot about when we turned off the electricity a few months ago, so I’m dreading that clean up task.   It was mostly condiments, but there were a few other items that should be unrecognizable at this point, and I think that’s a job for my brother-in-law.   He’s a special one that I’ll arm with bleach and baking soda, and I consider this as justice being served after putting up with his dirty kitchen habits for the last few months.

The next week is going to be hectic, but the bright side is this:  I’ll have a house to myself.  No more sharing a kitchen or bathroom, and I might celebrate by walking around naked for the first week.

Today can suck it.

I’m going out to drink my face off.

For the third time.

I love this face, but why does he make it so hard?  Sigh.

Sad fact:  I was walking to my car to run an errand and saw this guy walking halfway down the street and headed in my direction.  He spotted me, RAN with his tail wagging and greeted me with slobbery kisses.  And he brought a beautiful friend with him – a furry, beige husky mix with one blue eye/one brown, but by the time I brought out the camera the friend was gone and this one stayed.

Sadder fact:  Wallace, the 17lb toy dog, is too aggressive with this dog and that means I can’t keep him.

Bossy bench.

I’m really going to miss views like this when I move to the city.