Aimee's Finally Moved In
Language butchery by Mr Rich on 20.8.06 @ 20:59
Aimee finally got moved in this weekend. Evidence is pictured througout.
At long last we get to be a couple. Last year I spent 9-1/2 months in a hotel room you see. While I was off being a world traveller, she was stuck at home...
...Dealing with the great unwashed...
...Telling people, "I'm sorry, but you can't write your name is pee on the bathroom walls. This is a library"...
...Calling me at ungodly hours to tell me that the toilet was backing up, and that she was sick and had the water cannon ass, and that I should call the landlord early on a Sunday morning and get her to get a plumber out there to fix it.
That last one actually happened on my last trip to Omaha. She called me to tell me that the shit was flowing
once again. She had a fever, and didn't even remotely want to deal with it. I can't say as I blame her either -
the last thing I want to do when I have a fever and water shooting out of my ass is to clean up shit. I'm not gay, but I would want my boyfriend to clean it up as well. But can you picture it: sick as a dog, throwing up, projectile diarreah and having to stick a snake down a crapper to get the thing to flush. I think she said a few bad words...
She says that these pictures aren't too flattering. Too damn bad. We're moving - we're supposed to be filthy.
Thus far, the move has been pretty non-eventful. The moving truck was two hours late though.
We
didn't get started until after 1:00 PM on Saturday. Then the landlord called. She wanted to know when we would be out so she could start showing it. Nevermind that we paid rent through the end of August...she wants to get it leased out. We finished up the cleaning at 5:00 in the afternoon. At 5:15 she was handing out applications to potential renters.
Speaking of which, if you in a house to rent with a tempermental toilet, head over here and you can see all the gory deails.. One would have thought, however, that she would have a picture of the place. Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh. It was a lovely house, the landlord did get everything fixed when we asked, and she gave us all of our deposit back. All in all, it was a good experience. She is a great landlord.
So anyway, back to the move:
It took us a little under 4 hours to drive from Eugene to Portland - including a stop in Salem at The Smoke and Swine. Oh how we love that place (more about that in a minute)! We decided that once we got here, we would throw a padlock on the U-Haul and head to bed.
When we walked in the door, the cats ran and hid. A few minutes later, one of them came out and said, "Dude. My litter box doesn't smell that bad. You're so gross that I wont clean you. Please take a shower." You know you're foul when even your cat turns up its nose at you.
So the pictures that you see here are the fruits of today's labor. We got up this morning and unloaded the truck. Notice that there is a path to the sink and the beer in the fridge in the kitchen. The bathrooms are put away - we don't want problems there. We have a place to sleep tonight. The computers are up (obviously). We have our priorities.
At long last we get to be a couple. Last year I spent 9-1/2 months in a hotel room you see. While I was off being a world traveller, she was stuck at home......Dealing with the great unwashed...
...Telling people, "I'm sorry, but you can't write your name is pee on the bathroom walls. This is a library"...
...Calling me at ungodly hours to tell me that the toilet was backing up, and that she was sick and had the water cannon ass, and that I should call the landlord early on a Sunday morning and get her to get a plumber out there to fix it.
That last one actually happened on my last trip to Omaha. She called me to tell me that the shit was flowing
once again. She had a fever, and didn't even remotely want to deal with it. I can't say as I blame her either -the last thing I want to do when I have a fever and water shooting out of my ass is to clean up shit. I'm not gay, but I would want my boyfriend to clean it up as well. But can you picture it: sick as a dog, throwing up, projectile diarreah and having to stick a snake down a crapper to get the thing to flush. I think she said a few bad words...
She says that these pictures aren't too flattering. Too damn bad. We're moving - we're supposed to be filthy.
Thus far, the move has been pretty non-eventful. The moving truck was two hours late though.
Wedidn't get started until after 1:00 PM on Saturday. Then the landlord called. She wanted to know when we would be out so she could start showing it. Nevermind that we paid rent through the end of August...she wants to get it leased out. We finished up the cleaning at 5:00 in the afternoon. At 5:15 she was handing out applications to potential renters.
Speaking of which, if you in a house to rent with a tempermental toilet, head over here and you can see all the gory deails.. One would have thought, however, that she would have a picture of the place. Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh. It was a lovely house, the landlord did get everything fixed when we asked, and she gave us all of our deposit back. All in all, it was a good experience. She is a great landlord.
So anyway, back to the move:It took us a little under 4 hours to drive from Eugene to Portland - including a stop in Salem at The Smoke and Swine. Oh how we love that place (more about that in a minute)! We decided that once we got here, we would throw a padlock on the U-Haul and head to bed.
When we walked in the door, the cats ran and hid. A few minutes later, one of them came out and said, "Dude. My litter box doesn't smell that bad. You're so gross that I wont clean you. Please take a shower." You know you're foul when even your cat turns up its nose at you.
So the pictures that you see here are the fruits of today's labor. We got up this morning and unloaded the truck. Notice that there is a path to the sink and the beer in the fridge in the kitchen. The bathrooms are put away - we don't want problems there. We have a place to sleep tonight. The computers are up (obviously). We have our priorities. 
