(no subject)

Man, the Sun-Times has a reputation for being a terrible newspaper, but today it's especially bad. The cover is something to do with our governor wanting reform, I don't even know, but it has a huge photoshopped image of the governor's face on John Wayne's body.

That's right. Our governor's hed is indeed pastede on, yay. The second-biggest newspaper in Chicago is one tiny step from plastering LOLcats on its cover. Which frankly would increase my opinion of them, because who knew the Sun-Times could be so hip to current trends?

Also, this morning's edition, and you can go to the website if you don't believe me, lists the weather as "Steamy".

I'm in a much less rotten mood this morning than last night; my angst and woe about leaving the flat is equal parts about inconvenience over having to move at a terrible time of year for moving, and not getting to live with R anymore. But I think I can circumvent both of those issues if I rent a studio in M and B's building; it's right next door, so moving would be easy, it's cheaper than the rent I'm paying now, and I'd still be close enough to hang out with R and watch Wheel in the evenings and formally disdain my replacement. If I can just get to the bigger studio before someone grabs it, and get them to rent it to me starting in August, everything will be fine.

Also, there's a steampunk quiz meme going around, and I am:

The Aetherist Bodger

The aether carries the information, the aether is information. You are one of the few who know the ins and outs of Aether Terminals. You can access information across the Aethersphere, tapping into the Aetherpipes of anyone you want and stealing the information stored in their datatanks. Some think of you as a myth, a legend created to scare people.

You are no myth or legend. You are quite real, and you are currently reading the Queen’s AetherMissives.

Jesus, could that be any more fitting if it tried? :D

(no subject)

I have an appointment to view the studio at 5:30 today! \o/

Mum is behind it and also thinking very nasty things about R's mother, which let's be frank, lots of people I know are right now. I do ask that we, communally, try not to set her on fire with the power of our minds; the karma's no good for me.

Renting is so different when you have a steady job and a savings account. It occurred to me that with the money I save on my first month's rent alone I could buy a bed. Then I would have a futon AND a bed. Outrageous! What next, a chair?

As tired as I am of living out of boxes, I will admit that I secretly love packing. It's a chance to purge all the stuff I no longer want to own and reorganise the rest. Also, as per a ritual we developed when I was a kid, whenever you move into a new house it is required that you order pizza and eat it while sitting on the floor watching television. This is one of my favourite rituals in the whole world and it helps settle me greatly whenever I move, the fact that there's a treat waiting for me at the end of the whole process.

(no subject)

That was pretty much a wash. :P

The flats I looked at are tiny and dim, incredibly depressing, and while it would be convenient for moving in it wouldn't be very convenient for living in. "Walk in closet" does not translate to "hallway to bathroom". And I've lived in dreary studios like that before; I was always unhappy and twitchy in my own home, which is bad.

So, I took an application and called Mum and we talked about it, and we decided not to go for those flats but to decide on a TWO FRONT PLAN OF ATTACK. (What did Hitler not learn from Napoleon? Oh well.)

Front One is a return to the idea of purchasing a foreclosed condo. There are a bunch in this area; I just need to get pre-approved for a loan and find one. Now that Mum and Dad have a personal banker with their bank -- perk of being a Gas Baron, as Mum calls Dad -- we may be able to expedite things.

Front Two is me making an appointment to look at flats with an agent on Monday. The nice thing about Chicago Apartment Finders is that they will drive you around to look at places, so at least there's that. And my budget is significantly expanded since the last time.

So, I'm tired and discouraged and stressed about this, but on the balance way less so than last time. This is just a part of finding housing. It's a terrible business, real estate; it's so completely full of shysters and conmen that even if someone did want to be honest about it they wouldn't survive. It's a shame that the most important part of a person's life, their home, is surrounded by so much pain and suspicion in the purchasing, but what can you do?

Anyhow. I'm going to sleep and watch some TV and try not to think about it for tonight.

(no subject)

R and I were out on the back porch this evening. R, in some things, is oddly polite.

R: Do you mind if I fart?
Sam: We're outside, I think you're permitted.
R: Thanks. I shoulda brought some matches out.
Sam: Did you do the whole lighting-your-farts thing?
R: Oh yeah. If I can cook another one up, I'll demonstrate.
Sam: That's...really okay.

[moment of silence]

R: Porkchop's little brother can fart on command.
Sam: It's not what you said, it's the envious tone in which you said it.
R: He swallows air through his --
Sam: OKAY.
R: And then ejects it!
Sam: Well, I'm sure he could make a fortune as a male prostitute.

[second moment of silence]

R: He's at Princeton now.

Sometimes our conversations are downright surreal.