Aug. 20th, 2008

R's mum came over after the game last night. That was...yeah. He came BOLTING into the flat and announced, "Mom's parking the car. She says she really needs to pee."

"Why didn't you just tell her we have no toilet paper?" I said, which was true. He ignored me in favour of hiding several incriminating items including two pipes, three lighters, a pack of cigarettes, an ashtray, and a DVD of extremely dubious literary value.

"Do you know the lecture I would have gotten? Do we have ANY toilet paper?"

I hope she's happy, I sacrificed an Emergency Toilet Paper Roll for her (not to worry, I ordered peapod last night, the toilet paper issue will be remedied this evening).

But naturally no parent would be satisfied to pee and depart, so she hung out in our kitchen for a while looking like she wanted to sweep the floor but was well aware that R would strangle her if she suggested it. She confined herself to noticing that our dishwasher door was open, because I'd just run the dishwasher and left the door open so that the plates and such could cool down. AWKWARD MOMENT OF THE NIGHT:

R's Mum: Do you run the dishwasher on antibacterial setting? You should always run the dishwasher on antibacterial setting.
Sam: Hey, tell R, my new place hasn't got a dishwasher.

Totally did not intend a passive-aggressive reminder that she punted me unceremoniously from my home, but from the expression on her face, R could really get the upper hand with his mother if he employed guilt more often.
Wow. Local cable sure doesn't do much to discourage internet video piracy.

Seriously, Comcast is the only company that serves my area and they wanted my address before they'd even let me look at services (zipcode or street I could understand, but they don't need my unit # for this shit). Then before I could purchase services I had to chat with someone live, who was quite rude and also told me I had to visit a store and provide ID with my new address on it in order to schedule an appointment to have someone come out and set up my cable. Because....there's a lucrative criminal future in ordering cable for places in which you don't live? Seriously, what the hell?

So, you know. I'm not getting cable. Because that's way too much of a pain in my ass for essentially three channels: Discovery, Food Network, and whatever channel Dog Whisperer is on. I'll just get internet from AT&T, which is $45 for elite service as opposed to $66 for basic with cable, and stream or download the shows I want.

It's a very middle-class method of bucking the system, I realise, but it's still somewhat satisfying to be able to stop and say "I don't need you as much as you need me; if you ever feel like respecting your customers, come on back around."

Besides, money saved over a year of residence = $250; that's enough to buy either a reasonably nice tabletop dishwasher or the component parts for a decent imitation kotatsu.

(If anyone knows where I can get my hands on a Kotatsu that takes American voltage, by the way, feel free to let me know.)
R, unaccountably, wanted to come with me on a "taking things to the new flat" run this evening. I had nothing against it, I was just surprised he wanted to go. I figured I'd invite him and he'd blow it off.

Anyway, we went over to the new flat with my drafting-tube full of posters, a quilt in a sack, and an old messenger bag full of odds and ends. He was remarkably impressed; while I was unpacking he busted out the harmonicas and did a ditty in my living room, which does have truly superior accoustics. Then he pulled two beers out of his bag and we toasted my new place while hanging out on the fire escape. This was Awesome.

Looking at it empty of all the crap the last guy had in there, it really is pretty large. I'm going to have to put a new deadbolt on one of the doors, but the bathroom must have been redone recently and Irish Super assured me that the rickety bedroom window is getting replaced soon.

THUS BEGINNETH THE EMIGRATION. :D

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