(no subject)

Well, the car needed a new alternator. I got it, and the car runs fine once again. It's currently full of the last load of stuff from the old apartment; everything else in the apartment was throw-away-able or stuff I honestly didn't care if it got thrown out. I did lose my favorite lamp (which, given how much of a pain in the butt it was... well, never mind) because it wouldn't fit in the car, but, oh well.

Yesterday, I called the rental office and they said "Arrange for curbside pickup by the city of Kent for couch? No problem. $75."

"Maybe I'll just get a sledgehammer and break it into bite sized pieces."

They probably thought I was kidding.

Well, yes, I was kidding. I didn't use a sledgehammer to break it into much smaller pieces.

(Pause while this registers.)

I used a saw, a swiss army knife, and a screwdriver. And lots of muscle. That blasted thing might have been a cruddy couch, but it was built when they built furniture well.


I was probably dreaming when I heard the person say "I never saw a chicken with a grenade launcher before", but then again, maybe it was for the best that my car broke down on Tuesday so I couldn't make it back until Wednesday.

Left the apartment clean enough that I wouldn't care if a guest was taking it over. Not clean enough for rip-off scam artists imitating property managers who will try to stick me with a cleaning bill if they can, I'm sure, but I left it in good condition; all they can complain about is a couple spills (that will be painted over), a little dust, and other stuff that's expected after people have lived in a place for three and a half years.

I might stop by tonight to do some spiritual cleansing, but then again, I might consider that to be already done. I've never had to hand over an apartment that was solely mine before; I decided that, insofar as it was within my power, I was going to do this one right.

Keys are turned in. Yesterday night, I picked up my last ever piece of mail from that apartment; everything from today and afterwards should be forwarded.

The last piece of mail was a thick envelope with a return address from Cleveland (where Chris is living)... probably the papers proving that she is now my ex-wife.

Lots of endings... and maybe, a chance for some new beginnings.

(no subject)

Well, the car needed a new alternator. I got it, and the car runs fine once again. It's currently full of the last load of stuff from the old apartment; everything else in the apartment was throw-away-able or stuff I honestly didn't care if it got thrown out. I did lose my favorite lamp (which, given how much of a pain in the butt it was... well, never mind) because it wouldn't fit in the car, but, oh well.

Yesterday, I called the rental office and they said "Arrange for curbside pickup by the city of Kent for couch? No problem. $75."

"Maybe I'll just get a sledgehammer and break it into bite sized pieces."

They probably thought I was kidding.

Well, yes, I was kidding. I didn't use a sledgehammer to break it into much smaller pieces.

(Pause while this registers.)

I used a saw, a swiss army knife, and a screwdriver. And lots of muscle. That blasted thing might have been a cruddy couch, but it was built when they built furniture well.


I was probably dreaming when I heard the person say "I never saw a chicken with a grenade launcher before", but then again, maybe it was for the best that my car broke down on Tuesday so I couldn't make it back until Wednesday.

Left the apartment clean enough that I wouldn't care if a guest was taking it over. Not clean enough for rip-off scam artists imitating property managers who will try to stick me with a cleaning bill if they can, I'm sure, but I left it in good condition; all they can complain about is a couple spills (that will be painted over), a little dust, and other stuff that's expected after people have lived in a place for three and a half years.

I might stop by tonight to do some spiritual cleansing, but then again, I might consider that to be already done. I've never had to hand over an apartment that was solely mine before; I decided that, insofar as it was within my power, I was going to do this one right.

Keys are turned in. Yesterday night, I picked up my last ever piece of mail from that apartment; everything from today and afterwards should be forwarded.

The last piece of mail was a thick envelope with a return address from Cleveland (where Chris is living)... probably the papers proving that she is now my ex-wife.

Lots of endings... and maybe, a chance for some new beginnings.