The Big Move

It's Moving Day eve. Tomorrow at 8am, three movers will show up and hopefully bulldoze through the towers of boxes growing in my living room. At least I hope they're fast about it. I want out of this place.

I want this move over and done with so we can get back to normal. I'm just so stressed right now. Money's tighter than usual because of the move, my car has picked this time, of all times, to start making weird noises that freak me out a little, my phone was transferred over but it's not working and Qwest says there's a break in the line somewhere and they can't send a repairman out until Monday so they're forwarding my calls to my cell but I'm low on minutes on it, there's still so much to do and well I'm just starting to feel panicky.

But hey, look at my new shiny kitchen!



Hopefully my kitty will get to come home on Sunday. Now we've got lighter carpeting so we won't trip over her all the time :D

Anyway yeah, dull blog. Just felt like I should post because it's been a while.

My whole life...

...is in these boxes. And these are just three rooms and a few closets. Eesh.


I hate packing. I LOVE unpacking. Hate packing. But the good news is we found a nice place and we move in next week :) Woohoo!

But damn I have a lot of stuff. You just don't realize how fast it accumulates until you have to shift it. I've found a few things I thought I'd lost though. Things like the first cassette of my BBC radio production of A Clockwork Orange. I listened to that over and over when I lived in England. Tonight I found a $100 bond the grandparents gave Shannon back in 1993. That was cool.

The thing I want to find the most however, still remains elusive. Years ago I misplaced my handwritten recipes of food I used to cook at the pub. I wish it would turn up, there was good stuff in there. Things like a brilliant Stilton and Peppercorn sauce to go over a thin steak, or the cinnamon and pear sauce that goes over seared duck breast. And it had the most fabulous recipe for Tiramisu that I'd kill to make again. *sigh*

So we're leaving one of the desks and the loveseat behind. I might see if the hottie mover guy wants the desk. The sofa though is going to the dump. It's past its prime.

Anyway, this post has become dull. Back to the packing.

Greatest F*** I ever had

I'm finally going to see Placeo live. This band caught my attention just after my mum died and I was obsessed with them for a long time. I loved every single song. Even 'Nancy Boy' (from which came the title of this blog. Bet you thought I was going to talk about the best sex EVAR. Ha.) But they are mainly a European band (based in the UK) with only mild success on this side of the Atlantic. They had a song open the movie "Cruel Intentions" and some success with a song called "Pure Morning" a few years ago but otherwise they are not well-known here - well at least in this part of the country.

So because of that, I never got the chance to see them perform at the height of my passion for them because they rarely tour here. But now they are coming to Denver and I just can't miss the chance. So the kid and I are off to see my favourite band for the first time, for the last time unless they someday play at the HEC here in town :) I'd love it but I don't think GI is ready for Placebo.



Man... I haven't been to a show since Depeche Mode at the Shoreline in 2001. Well, not quite true, I enjoyed SOJH at the Grand downtown. But that was an unknown band to me. Ok I'll rephrase. I haven't been to a show of a band I love since Depeche in 2001. Which incidentally was my daughter's very first concert. And she fell asleep. And almost got stepped on by some chick who was totally fried on acid and I don't think she even knew she was at a concert. Thankfully Meechie gave her a good shove and she stumbled away, thus sparing Shan a stomp on the head.

I'm thinking I'll introduce her to the Crush and position ourselves right up front too. She might as well learn what complete twats people become when the show starts :)

Worse than the Break-up Post-it

The Break-up Door.



A closer look:


Leaving for work this morning, we noticed the note on my neighbour's door.

Ouch.

(And for anyone wondering, my kitty is safely with my dear cousin for a month while I look for a better place to live that likes kitties.)

Spooky

Got home from work last night to a letter from my landlord letting me know they "are aware I have a cat" and that I must "remove the animal immediately" and that this letter serves "as the only warning I will receive."

Fucking plumber narc. Tuesday night he shows up unannounced declaring the apartment below me has a leak in their bathroom and he proceeds to barge into my bedroom and into my closet without, you know, asking if it's okay. In the process of this intrusion, he sees Spooky, even says hello to her and remarks how much she looks like his cat.

Thursday my landlord drafts this letter and I received it Friday. Of course I spend the evening in tears at the thought of having to give up this cat who's been a part of my family for 7 years (and who, incidentally, has lived in this apartment for those 7 years without the landlord saying anything. In fact, many tenants in this complex have a pet.)

I'm not blaming the landlord mind you. She's just enforcing the lease (after 7 years.) I'm perfectly aware that it was my decision to have Spooky anyway (after noting several of my neighbours have cats and small dogs.)

I'm hoping against hope that my dear cousin will take her in temporarily while I get serious about moving out of this place. I haven't asked him yet and I have a feeling he's going to say no, after all he's already got 8 cats himself (don't freak out, he and his better half own a huge house and take excellent care of all of them. They're great kitties.) But he's pretty much my only hope. There's just absolutely no way I will give Spooky to strangers or the Humane Society.

Shannon is gutted and currently curled up on my bed with her right now while Spooky tolerantly allows her to cuddle.

Anyway, I don't know how this works. I'm half-expecting my landlord to show up at the door today to check I got rid of her. She's going to have to suck it though. If I have to comply (and I know I do) I hope she can show she has a heart and at least give me some time to work out something satisfactory that doesn't involve my daughter crying crocodile tears at the thought of losing Spooky.