Apartment Woes

I brought some little things over to the apartment last night. I have only been there twice before, so I was excited to see it a little cleaned up.

The first thing that I noticed when I walked in was the heavy odor of cigarettes, Marlboro Reds to be precise. The next thing I noticed was a slight man in the downstairs bathroom with a thick salt and pepper mustache and a heavy white apron. This was Peter our landlord. The one that has yet to finish our apartment. The downstairs bathroom is gutted, but we were told we had to move in on the 15th or no go. I greeted Peter and ran up stairs to J's room. He's the only one who had moved in so far.

I'm very annoyed that apartment was ready for the date that they said, but J is playing Mr. Nice guy and having beers with our alcoholic land lord and gets annoyed with us when we have the gall to express our annoyance with the unfinished work. There is no hot water, there are no washer and dryer, there is no gas and the stairs up to the third floor are not finished. They are uneven and have rough edges that I'm sure, being the graceful lady that I am, I will probably go head over heals one night.

Heaven forbid we complain though! J acts like a petulant child, short of folding his arms across his chest and sticking out his lower lip, thought I'm sure he's holding it all back. I understand how he wants to look at the potential of the apartment, but he doesn't listen to anyone else's advice or suggestions. We paid for a service that we have yet to receive. That is unacceptable and I don't care if the landlord is like a "big puppy dog" and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to him.

The only solace that I have is that I'm not moving in until the 29th. That bathroom better be ready by then and those stairs better be finished. I'm twenty-seven years old, this is not a frat house, this is our home and it should be in the condition that we were promised.

The plus side is that my room is much bigger than I remember it. I'm excited to be moved in, the the physical act of moving that I'm dreading.

J, P and I went to a bar that J declared is his new favorite, The Thirsty Scholar in Inman square. It was nice, but sitting w/with J and P I got the feeling that I'm going to missing female company very soon. I don't care that the waitresses' ass is like a shelf, I don't care that when the colleges are back in session this place is going to be "crawling with girls". Their one-tract minds are already exhausting.

The first time I hear any of them having sex is going to be miserable. I'm going to have to learn how to sleep with ear plugs.

Boys are gross!