In Coffee Spoons

So I'm back in Roscommon. I just couldn't find work in Ann Arbor, and couldn't afford to stay and keep looking.

Oh, well. I had a really good summer on my own. I pared down a lot of my stuff so it'll be easier to move next time. I know where my resume needs improvement and where I want to get some qualifications.

Just gonna regroup and move on.

Plan: Find a job, probably in Grayling, and build my savings back up. Prepare all of my citizenship papers. Find out what's involved in getting qualifications in medical transcription. Possibly get my driver's license. Be ready to try again, this time in Toronto, by February.

I keep saying I'm headed there, and a million little things keep getting in the way.

All I can do is regroup and move on. As many times as it takes.

Until I get there.

Other boxes include:

• Magazines, femurs, glitter
  
• Books- Sci-Fi, narcotics, pornography
  
• Books- Fiction, stiletto heels, cigarillos, men's hearts
  
• Tea, snacks, shame, regret
  
• Kitchen gadgets, small animals, firearms
  
• Japanese dishes, canaries, yo-yos
  
• Comics, dirt, rocks, grass
  
• Books- Fiction, caterpillars, lollipops, swingsets
  
• Books- Poetry, coffee, ennui, nickels
  
• Books- Clive, banana peels, diamonds
  
• Books - Horror, small birds, owl pellets
  
• Knick knacks, odds, ends, stuff, junk, incriminating evidence
  

Oh my god I am so desperately in need of bookshelves. I brought a couple hundred of my books and still have more on the way from home.

Monday: "I'm sorry, we can't turn your power on today because we thought your meter was outside so we told you that you wouldn't have to be home but then it turned out we were wrong and it was an inside meter and you weren't home so we rescheduled."

Tuesday:

Guy: "Hi, how are you?"

Me: "COME THE HELL IN BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE HAPPENS."

Guy: *fiddles with meter and has my power on in two minutes*

Me: "You are my hero."

So I'm completely moved into my own apartment now-- really, all I had left to bring downstairs was the contents of my fridge-- and very, very happy.

It's a nice little place. I've been rearranging the ugly mismatched couches and adding some plants and pictures to make it more home-ish and less like a basement. Not that it still doesn't yell "flat-broke first apartment", because it does. The ugly mismatched couches see to that. But I'm working on it.

Pics likely to come soon. I'm still clearing out boxes and bubble wrap.

...Okay, I'm clearing out the boxes and playing with the bubble wrap.


~

~

...had an unfortunate adventure. Consequently, so did Erin.

Got my own place, moving in on Monday. Good deal. Two bedrooms. Turning one into a library/study deal for my computer and my acres of books, probably a futon for guests. Cheap because it's in the basement and thus minus a patio/balcony and big windows. (Hello, this is why light bulbs were invented.) It's in the same building, so I already know what I'm getting. Only have to drag this furniture downstairs rather than across town.

Got a job with an environmental activist group and then almost immediately quit it. Hey, fuckers, I will give you points for hiding so well behind a legitimate organization, and for the mastery with which you handled your bait-and-switch with the slave wages. Good luck with your fake environmental petitions used to sell personal information to mailing lists!

Places I have put applications in:

* The library! Hooray! I want to work at the library. This is my number one choice right now.

* Generic Business OfficeCorp Inc. I think they sell computer stuff. Data entry position.

* Orchid Lane. Sells fair-trade imports from places like India and Nepal.

* Middle Eastern restaurant I forget the name of but it doesn't matter cause I know where it is.

* The Gandy Dancer, the overpriced snooty restaurant down the block from me. Do not actually want this one but will take it if I have to.

* Bagel factory. Not a store called the Bagel Factory, but an actual factory where they make the bagels. Probably not the Willy Wonka wonderland of magical carbohydrates that I am imagining.

This is minus the places I'm likely not getting, since I applied at the beginning of the month and haven't heard anything.

Going out tomorrow to put some more applications in, more office positions and housekeeping positions that I would take but grumble about.

Doing really well overall. I'm psyched about the apartment. I'm confident that I can get a job, and soon. I'm signing up to volunteer with Robot Supply & Repair, the local branch of 826 National. I'm meeting some new people, a lot of other film geeks. I'm enjoying living somewhere that isn't stagnant and dying.

Woo!

This is me *finally* updating about my move more than a week after it happens, go me.

Not that, you know, moving and looking for work and looking for a second apartment and getting all my everyday shit like library cards and grocery shopping in order keeps a person busy or anything.

The situation: I took a month-long sublet on a room in a two-bedroom apartment, giving me ample time to look for a job and my own place.

My roommate's name is Darren. He is preparing for medical school. He is adorkable. We see each other once, maybe twice a day, so it's working out just fine.





Better photos (I do not actually live in the dark):

Bedroom, view un

Bedroom, view deux

As you can see, I've already got some furniture type stuff. The guy who was here before me was heading overseas, and didn't want to try and move a bunch of furniture with him. He left me:

* Full mattress set

* Desk

* Computer chair

* Plastic storage bins

* Bookshelf

* Lamp

* Wastebasket

* Empty bag of candy

* Handful of loose change (Is anyone reading this familiar with South African currency?)

* Pervading cologne smell

AND

* An astounding amount of dust for a recently vacated room

Living room

Kitchen with five hundred year old stove (We, uh, like tea)

That kitchen rug is the bane of my existence. It will not stay put. I'm going to fucking duct tape it.

Things are going well. I spent this week settling in and putting in applications everywhere I could find and getting lost. Next week = more formal interviews, like at the hospital, and viewing apartments and probably getting lost some more.

More than anything, just thrilled to the fucking moon that this has finally happened. To the fucking moon, I say!

Live animals brought into the house in the past few weeks:

1 snake (Caught by Charlotte, released by yours truly)

1 bird (Caught by Malingo, released by Erin)

1 mouse (Caught by Sweeney, escaped into house, CURRENT WHEREABOUTS UNKNOWN)

0 bunny rabbits (Thank Christ)

The live bird was the biggest surprise. Malingo is a rabid manic ruthless bird-hunter, and we've gotten used to finding piles of feathers in the food dish on a daily basis. (He drops them in the damn food dish, like he's trying to be polite.)

So when he pranced in growling and holding a bird in his jaws, we went to toss him and his treat outside.

Mom: Hang on-- I've almost got it away from him-- there.

Me: Hey, it's flying!

Mom: What did you say? Help me get him outside before he picks it up again.

Me: I said he's not going to get it again, because it's flying.

I guess Malingo wanted some indoor playtime, because it was totally unhurt. Mom held Malingo while Erin caught and freed the bird, which she says very soft. I want to hold a very soft bird.

Maybe Malingo will bring me one.

...is on fire.

Actually, it's been raining since last night, so maybe it isn't anymore.

But yesterday was all fire. Big plumes of smoke out towards Grayling, fire engines on our road for the first time since I don't remember when, I-75 all over the news.

When I was seven, there was a similar forest fire, close enough to our house that we started piling things in the car in case of evacuation. Mom was packing up photo albums and heirlooms and things. I had my little red Snoopy suitcase. Pretty much the only thing I remember grabbing, in dire fear of losing, was my little plastic Big Bird. I have no idea why. It wasn't my favorite toy or anything.

It's a weird memory, the more I think about it. I remember seeing the sky full of flames, but that's not possible. It didn't end up actually coming that close. I think I remember translating the sunset into fire, because the purpose of a child's imagination is to torture that child.

Anyway. This is gettling all rambly and disjointed and all I really intended was to let anyone downstate who's watching the news know that I'm not on fire.