Part One: Out Ya Go!
You guyses, I totally thought that this weekend I'd be writing about all the fun people I'm working with while temping, but then last night when I got home my world exploded, so now I feel like writing about that instead. So here we go.
Have I mentioned that I moved? Yes, I did. I told you all about how lovely the neighborhood is. It still is. Today I volunteered in the community and despite working outside in a heatwave, I had a lovely time and look forward to going back next weekend.
Let's talk about my roommate, Wooffers.* She's got two woofs, which I was totally psyched about. She is a woof trainer and a woof walker. She is all about woofs. She has a tattoo of one of her woof's names on her arm. I met with Wooffers three times before moving in. I was not thrilled that any time we talked she found a way to bring the conversation back around to woofs, but figured I could deal.
Maybe two months ago or so, when I thought admitting defeat and moving in with my parents in Florida was my only option, I asked Crazy Girl for her opinion when we were in the car alone. Sometimes when I talk with her and my brother, my brother will make suggestions but she will stay quiet, and I wanted to hear how she saw the situation. What CG said kind of upset me, simply because it wasn't what I wanted to hear, you know? She told me if she were in my position she would not think twice about selling all her furniture and moving elsewhere in the city. Regardless of how many roommates she had to have, or what kind of place it was, basically Crazy Girl was saying she'd do whatever had to be done to stay in SF and not go to Florida. I had been hoping there was a way I could have everything I wanted and just hadn't come up with the way to do that, and CG was saying basically that I had to give. It was good advice, and I went over it in my head a lot.
So when a friend forwarded me a link to an ad on Craigslist from this woman she knew, saying she was looking for a roommate to pay $1000, I thought of what Crazy Girl had said, and went to meet the person and check out the place. When I looked at how little closet space there was, I thought of what Crazy Girl had said, and told myself I could get rid of a lot of stuff. When I looked at how tiny the bathroom was, I did the same thing. When I talked with the woman and realized I'd have to get rid of most of my living room furniture and store things, I resolved to find a way, because staying in San Francisco was (and still is) the ultimate goal.
So two weeks ago today, with the help of two friends, I moved in. There was friction from the very start, but I thought it was the type of friction that most new roommates have, where everyone is sorting out where everything goes, and how to balance making yourself at home without stepping on anyone else's toes. I was completely wrong.
I hadn't been able to sell all the furniture I wanted to sell before moving, so I had to bring some of it with me. I donated a ton of stuff, and CG, Golden Boy and a friend were all nice enough to let me store various things at their homes, but I still had more than just one bedroom's worth of things, you know? My bedroom is packed right now, and it is seriously a miracle that I have not yet stubbed a toe walking around it yet.
The very day when I moved in, Wooffers was upset. One of the friends who'd helped me move had placed a side table next to the couch in the living room. Wooffers and I had agreed that I could move my coffee table into the living room, but that was all. My side table was simply in the living room while I rearranged furniture, trying to make everything in the bedroom accessible. I knew it wasn't staying there. But Wooffers was freaked out about it, and I had to reassure her multiple times I'd have it out of the living room before 24 hours had gone by since I'd moved in. This kind of rubbed me the wrong way, but I reminded myself of how much rent I was saving, and pushed the feeling away.
The day after I'd moved in, I had some things to exchange with my brother. I told him that since it was my fault I'd forgotten to leave something of his and take some things of mine when I'd left their house, I'd be happy to go back there, but he was welcome to come over and see the new place. I kind of wanted him to come by, check out the view, and also, he'd been very busy the last couple of months, and while I saw him at Passover and in Mexico, it was always in the midst of tons of things going on with tons of people around. Not environments conducive to talking, you know? We agreed Golden Boy would come over in a little over an hour.
I went to tell Wooffers my brother was coming, and as I thought to myself, "I hope CG is coming too, and should I tell Woofers she may come, or ..." Wooffers Freaked the Fuck Out. Complete with crying. Twice.
*We will call the canines woofs because I don't want her googling and finding this, at least until I've moved out.
Have I mentioned that I moved? Yes, I did. I told you all about how lovely the neighborhood is. It still is. Today I volunteered in the community and despite working outside in a heatwave, I had a lovely time and look forward to going back next weekend.
Let's talk about my roommate, Wooffers.* She's got two woofs, which I was totally psyched about. She is a woof trainer and a woof walker. She is all about woofs. She has a tattoo of one of her woof's names on her arm. I met with Wooffers three times before moving in. I was not thrilled that any time we talked she found a way to bring the conversation back around to woofs, but figured I could deal.
Maybe two months ago or so, when I thought admitting defeat and moving in with my parents in Florida was my only option, I asked Crazy Girl for her opinion when we were in the car alone. Sometimes when I talk with her and my brother, my brother will make suggestions but she will stay quiet, and I wanted to hear how she saw the situation. What CG said kind of upset me, simply because it wasn't what I wanted to hear, you know? She told me if she were in my position she would not think twice about selling all her furniture and moving elsewhere in the city. Regardless of how many roommates she had to have, or what kind of place it was, basically Crazy Girl was saying she'd do whatever had to be done to stay in SF and not go to Florida. I had been hoping there was a way I could have everything I wanted and just hadn't come up with the way to do that, and CG was saying basically that I had to give. It was good advice, and I went over it in my head a lot.
So when a friend forwarded me a link to an ad on Craigslist from this woman she knew, saying she was looking for a roommate to pay $1000, I thought of what Crazy Girl had said, and went to meet the person and check out the place. When I looked at how little closet space there was, I thought of what Crazy Girl had said, and told myself I could get rid of a lot of stuff. When I looked at how tiny the bathroom was, I did the same thing. When I talked with the woman and realized I'd have to get rid of most of my living room furniture and store things, I resolved to find a way, because staying in San Francisco was (and still is) the ultimate goal.
So two weeks ago today, with the help of two friends, I moved in. There was friction from the very start, but I thought it was the type of friction that most new roommates have, where everyone is sorting out where everything goes, and how to balance making yourself at home without stepping on anyone else's toes. I was completely wrong.
I hadn't been able to sell all the furniture I wanted to sell before moving, so I had to bring some of it with me. I donated a ton of stuff, and CG, Golden Boy and a friend were all nice enough to let me store various things at their homes, but I still had more than just one bedroom's worth of things, you know? My bedroom is packed right now, and it is seriously a miracle that I have not yet stubbed a toe walking around it yet.
The very day when I moved in, Wooffers was upset. One of the friends who'd helped me move had placed a side table next to the couch in the living room. Wooffers and I had agreed that I could move my coffee table into the living room, but that was all. My side table was simply in the living room while I rearranged furniture, trying to make everything in the bedroom accessible. I knew it wasn't staying there. But Wooffers was freaked out about it, and I had to reassure her multiple times I'd have it out of the living room before 24 hours had gone by since I'd moved in. This kind of rubbed me the wrong way, but I reminded myself of how much rent I was saving, and pushed the feeling away.
The day after I'd moved in, I had some things to exchange with my brother. I told him that since it was my fault I'd forgotten to leave something of his and take some things of mine when I'd left their house, I'd be happy to go back there, but he was welcome to come over and see the new place. I kind of wanted him to come by, check out the view, and also, he'd been very busy the last couple of months, and while I saw him at Passover and in Mexico, it was always in the midst of tons of things going on with tons of people around. Not environments conducive to talking, you know? We agreed Golden Boy would come over in a little over an hour.
I went to tell Wooffers my brother was coming, and as I thought to myself, "I hope CG is coming too, and should I tell Woofers she may come, or ..." Wooffers Freaked the Fuck Out. Complete with crying. Twice.
*We will call the canines woofs because I don't want her googling and finding this, at least until I've moved out.
Labels: Crazy Girl, Harshing Your Mellow, How RUDE, I'm Hurt, Playing in SF
posted by Green at 5/16/2009 02:46:00 PM
6 Comments:
Wow!
I suggest you calm yourself down, waaay down.
You know how when something in your life is REALLY bothering you and someone else creates the smallest of disturbances, like announcing a visit from your brother and you fly completely off the handle, appearing to another person that you're completely insane? Maybe that's all it was? Give this person a chance, in spite of a tattoo of her dog's name on her arm. (A clue, lol.)
oh dear. can't wait to hear the rest. deep breaths.
She started to cry when you told her a guest was comming over? Hmmmm. Did you sign a lease? I would give it a few weeks for the two of you to figure each other out, but if it doesn't get better, then NEXT!
She is batshit insane and I wish you had used her name so I could write her and tell her this.
xoxo
I hope you publish something that will bring up this string of posts after you move out, she needs to know she is a freakin' psycho. For $1000 a month, you should be able to have a guest, your BROTHER no less, any time you like. Jeez.
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