Cancel That Packing!

Well shit. We're not going to be able to move after all.

Yesterday my MIL went to the rental office to sign the papers to reserve the third floor apartment for us and was told it was too late. The SOB was already there and signed the papers. First come, first served. Shit.

I was so disappointed. I'd let myself get used to the idea of moving right into a freshly renovated, all neat and tidy and organized apartment. I mean I was seriously bummed out about this. And what bummed me out the most was the idea of being wedged between the zillion kids below us and the screaming SOB and his screaming wife above us.

My MIL did convey this concern to the rental office as well and they advised that if either family is making excessive noise for us not to confront them personally. Instead they want us to document the offense and give them a list of what's happening and they'll take care of it. They'll either have to learn to shut the fuck up and turn down that freaking stereo or they'll be told they have to move. At least I won't have to tolerate thumping music disturbing me.

B and I then talked about the bright side of things. At least now we can find a new kitchen at our leisure. We won't have to pay for movers. We won't have to pack all this stuff up at once. We won't have to pay for rent on two apartments at once. Sure, getting a new kitchen will be inconvenient and so will renovating the livingrooms but it's not impossible. And you know, the third floor apartment may have some bad vibes going on in there. One lady died in there. Other unhappy families have lived there. Who knows? Maybe we'd leave our nice, happy, filled-with-love apartment to move to the entrance to Hell.

I'm over the disappointment now. Especially since not moving means I can buy a new sofa this year instead of waiting a year or two.

You take your comforts where you can find them.