Reasons why I am an unhappy girl:
1. The woman who sent me email on Friday agreeing to be my new roommate? The one who told me the date she planned to move in, and who was going to stop by soon to fill out the paperwork and give me her half of the rent and security deposit? She bailed on me yesterday. Sent me an email saying "Oh, I decided to take a different place. Sorry!" Yeah. Sorry, my ass. So, now I am frantically advertising, devising ways to borrow money to get through August (in hopes of having a roommate lined up for September 1) and trying not to think about what will happen if it all falls through. I have nowhere else to stay (and I hate asking friends for favors like that -- it's a huge imposition, and I can't ask for it). Today I was pondering whether my boss would let me take some sort of leave of absence so I could go crash at my mom's house until I found a new place.
2. My mom's upstairs neighbor appears to be stalking her. Again. This neighbor has been weird toward her before -- he'd listen at her windows, and look in, and went through a phase of calling Animal Control, claiming that she has a vicious dog that runs loose and craps all over the neighborhood. Queenie is the sweetest dog alive -- not only is she not vicious, she's never off her leash, and my mom cleans up after her. I have been there on occasions when he's lurked on his porch, peering in her windows. I've seen him trying to hide on his porch, watching my mom and I come and go. It came to a head last Thanksgiving, when my brother decided enough was enough and tried to talk to the creepy neighbor about it. Creepy neighbor ran inside and called the police, claiming that my brother had threatened to beat him up. The police came, told Creepy Neighbor to knock it off and leave my mom alone, and left instructions for my mom to call them if weird things started happening again. Things quieted down after that, until a few weeks ago when she called to tell me that Creepy Neighbor had cut back the bushes on her side of the house, leaving a sort of tunnel between the branches and the wall. She thought it was odd; I thought it was damned scary. She mentioned that she's caught him looking in her windows again, and knows he's watching her. She sleeps with a ball-peen hammer under her pillow, and is planning to buy a cordless phone so she can call 911 in a hurry if she has to. She called about an hour ago to tell me that her downstaors neighbor, Van, caught Creepy Neighbor hiding behind the bushes next to my mom's door this afternoon. I am worried, and livid, and wish I could go to Vermont and have a word with this guy. I don't know that he would do anything -- he's obviously not all there -- but, he might. He might try to hurt her. It scares the shit out of me, and when I get scared, I get angry. I have been simmering with anger for the past couple of days now.
Of course, all these problems would be solved in one fell swoop if she'd only move here... she'd be a great temporary roommate, and all my neighbors are nice!
It's 6 p.m. on Sunday, and I'm settling in for the first real relaxation I've had since yesterday morning. Mom visited for the weekend, which was fun, as always -- she drove down from Vermont, arriving at 10 o'clock yesterday morning. She brought her dog, Queenie, which made me very happy indeed, since as of last weekend, it looked as though Queenie was going to have to be put to sleep. She's gotten a severe case of gastroenteritis (I have no idea if I've spelled that correctly) and was bleeding heavily internally. The vet didn't know whether the treatment would work, so we were all trying to prepare for the worst. (You have no idea how attached my family is to this dog. Queenie is, bar none, the sweetest dog on the planet. She's a border collie, and loves nothing more than to curl up on a couch with her head in your lap. She's cuddly and loyal and affectionate, and we all adore her. So we were very, very sad last weekend.) I called my mom Monday, expecting to hear bad news, and was floored when my mom said "Queenie's fine! The vet doesn't know what happened, but she seems to be completely better, overnight!" Happiness! So, it was especially good to see the dog.
Patrick is moving next month, alas, so Mom and I went shopping for new house-type stuff. We drove to the Rockingham Mall in Salem, NH, to hit the sale at Sears -- I needed a microwave, a toaster, a new set of knives, some bathroom stuff, and a TV, and they were having a 10% off sale. We grabbed our credit cards, and charged into the fray. I found a TV right away -- a nice little 19" on sale. There were a few out on display, so I stationed myself next to them while Mom went in search of a salesperson. One woman bustled past, telling us she was helping someone, but would be with us soon. There was a salesman standing nearby, studiously ignoring us (presumably because I obviously wanted to buy an inexpensive item, thus netting him a low commission). He pretended to be very busy fussing with a big-screen TV until two older gentlemen walked in, whereupon the smarmy salesman pounced on them, loudly declaring that he remembered them from the previous day, and that he knew they'd be back to buy today! One of the older gents rolled his eyes and muttered "Don't bet on it." Smarmy Salesman proceeded to pull the hard-sell routine on the two men, who made it clear that they were just looking, comparison-shopping, and did not intend to buy anything. (I had the impression that their reluctance to buy was due in large part to the salesman's behavior -- he kept pressuring them to buy, buy, buy, and wouldn't leave them alone.Mostly, he was talking to their backs, as they were doing their best to ignore him.) My mom walked up to Smarmy Salesman and said "Excuse me, but we'd like to buy..." He interrupted her to snap "I'm busy here" at her. She came back to me, fuming, and said she was glad he didn't want to help us, because she'd rather wait all day for a different person than deal with him. The two older gents, meanwhile, told Smarmy Salesman in no uncertain terms that they were not going to buy anything from him, so he could go away and leave them alone. He blustered at them for a minute, then decided that he could help me and my mom after all. He charged over, saying "Okay, I'm ready for you now!" Mom replied "No thank you, we'll wait for someone else." He gaped at her, then started shouting at her, saying it was "only protocol for him to help the people who were there first," and that he didn't know what her problem was, etc. Finally, he rolled his eyes and said "Well, sor-RY!" and stormed off to another aisle, where he stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and lower lip pooched out, looking like the world's biggest toddler preparing for a tantrum. The saleswoman who had first spoken to us came back then, apologizing for taking so long, and rang us up -- it took her all of five minutes, and she was all sorts of friendly the whole time. Smarmy Salesman, meanwhile, kept glaring at us, rolling his eyes, and muttering comments. I mentioned it to the saleswoman, telling her that her coworker was extremely rude, and she leaned over and whispered "Go to the office and tell the manager. No, really. Please, go tell them!" We asked if he was always like this, and she said yes, and that he was such a joy to work with, so we should go and complain to his manager. We thanked her, and headed off to find the office. The office was actually just a window by the merchandise pickup area; the woman staffing the window wasn't the least bit surprised at our complaint. In fact, we only got as far as telling her the salesman's name before she nodded, gave her coworker a knowing look, and said "Right, no need to say any more. I'll get his manager here immediately." The manager didn't seem surprised either -- apparently that particular salesman goes out of his way to be rude to people. He apologized, and promised to speak to the salesman right away, and as we left, we saw him leave the office and head toward the TV section. Ha. (I should add that I've never actually complained to a manager about a salesperson before. I've worked retail, and I understand that everyone has an off day. But this guy was just really nasty, and it was very clear why he didn't want to help us. Two women buying an inexpensive TV = low commission for him. Two men buying a pricey big-screen TV = big commission for him. He didn't want to waste his time on us. I just found it amusing that he didn't get any money from either of us, and he got scolded to boot.)
The TV bought, we headed over to the housewares section, where I snagged the set of knives, toaster, new towels and washcloths, and a shower curtain and matching bathmat, both on clearance. They're covered with happy yellow rubber ducks! Fun! We comparison-shopped the rest of the mall, looking for a microwave and some shelves for the kitchen, but ended up back at Sears, as they had the best prices. The microwaves are right across from the TVs, and the same nasty salesman was still there, looking very pissed-off, and glaring at us. We picked out a microwave, arranged to get it at merchandise pickup, and decided we'd shopped enough. We loaded up the car and headed for home, wanting nothing more than some dinner, a nice glass of wine, and some mindless TV. When we got home, I lugged all the purchases inside, and noticed an unsettling rattle from the microwave box. A rattle that sounded like broken glass. Oh dear. I opened the box, and found that the turntable plate was smashed to bits. Damn. Mom called the store, hoping we could somehow get it replaced without driving all the way back to New Hampshire, but no luck. So, I lugged it back out to the car, and off we went again. The return was quick, and was made all the more pleasant by the merchandise-pickup guy who came out to the car to get the busted microwave -- he gave me a big smile, then turned to my mom and said "I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you have a beautiful daughter." Aw. Mom laughed and said "Yeah, she looks just like me, right?" The guy agreed that of course, I am the spitting image of my lovely mother. Hee! (Judging from the way he joked and teased with all the saleswomen in the area, the guy was a great big harmless flirt, so it was all fun.) On the way out to get the new, improved, unbroken microwave, I remembered that I also really needed a new phone, so I dashed back to electronics and grabbed one (a nifty cordless with caller ID; I've been playing with it all afternoon). I was slightly nervous about going back, because the nasty salesman was still there, and still looking daggers at me; when I turned to leave after buying the phone, he stepped out into the aisle to block my path. I was worried he'd start yelling or something, but he backed off and contented himself with muttering insults at me as I walked by.
Once home, with the non-broken microwave settled on the counter, Mom and I went off to the grocery store to get dinner, and took a detour into the local hardware store to ask about shelves. They had the ones I wanted (plain old metal utility shelves, perfect for the kitchen) so I grabbed them, spent yet more money, and we headed for home. The shelves took two people to assemble, and I (foolishly) thought it would only take a few minutes, so I spread out the pieces and got to work. An hour and a half later, after much whimpering and swearing, and with battered fingers, the shelves were in place. Mom and I ate dinner, then collapsed to watch Trading Spaces before bed.
This morning, we got up early so I could show the apartment to a potential roommate, who turned out to be a definite no. She looked at the apartment, then announced "My boyfriend wanted me to make sure I tell you that he's going to be spending every Friday night here." Um... ooookay. Thanks for asking if I mind, there. She expressed dismay over the lack of air conditioning, a dishwasher, and laundry in the building, and then, as she was leaving, exclaimed "Oh, you have a computer! Great, becausde mine is broken. Now I won't have to go to the library to use the computer anymore!" Um... yeah. And when exactly did you ask me if it would be okay for you to use my computer? Grrr. So, she's a no. It's fine, though, because the first woman to look at the place wants it. I just wanted to get the two appointemtns I had today over with before making a decision -- and it did turn out to be tough, because the second woman today was really nice. She seems like she'd make a good roommate, but she's going to keep looking at places for at least another week, and I don't want to leave the woman who already said she wants the place hanging. So, I'm going to tell her she can have the room if she still wants it; send me good-roommate vibes, please!
And now, I am going to go eat some dinner, and settle in front of the TV for a while.
My job's been interesting lately. We're planning a brand-new library, which is cool enough -- the meetings with the architects are fun, because we get to list off all the things we want (they did not go for my penthouse-office idea, for some reason...) and work out ways to solve the workspace problems we have now. (And yes, I realize I'm a complete geek for being happy about that last bit.) The not-so-fun part, though, is the inventory. We've apparently never figured out how many books we have. We've been content in the knowledge that it's a lot. Piles and piles of books, all over the place. That doesn't work so well for the architects, though, so we're in the process of counting everything. I spent my morning counting the number of shelves we have in the main stacks. Between the B and LA call numbers, there are 3,956. I counted 'em all. It only took my 45 minutes, and I probably could have done the whole second floor, but my eyes were starting to cross, and people were looking at me funny because I was counting out loud and muttering to myself.
In other news, I'm showing the apartment to a potential roommate on Thursday. Wish me luck -- I'm nervous about the whole thing. I've had bad luck with roommates in the past. I was spoiled with the latest one, but alas, he's moving on. This woman sounds nice enough, though it's hard to tell from brief email exchanges. If anyone has an advice on interviewing potential roommates, I'd be happy to hear them.