(no subject)

Coworker: I think I have raccoons in my attic.
Sam: I really hope that's not a metaphor.
Coworker: No, actual raccoons. It's really noisy up in there. I can't figure out why they'd go in the attic though, there's no food.
Sam: Well, it's warmer than the outside, I guess.
Coworker: Yeah, but why now?
Sam: Sudden cold snap? New hole in the roof?
Coworker: But there's nothing there!

Sometimes people are determined to be confused even when little to no confusion is warranted. :D

(no subject)

My mum and I are locked in a battle of wills. I feel like this should have stopped happening in my twenties.

The essential situation is that I have an apartment with no elevator and a mouse problem, and I also have a small inheritance coming in from Mama Tickey to the tune of six grand or so. Mum wants me to use this six grand to find and rent a new apartment. And yes, I do have mice, but on the other hand I have a gorgeous 1-bedroom with lovely high ceilings for $985 a month, which is about $500 less than ANY OTHER 1-BEDROOM IN THIS ENTIRE CITY. And I can't afford much more than I'm paying now, because I got student loans to pay, yo.

So we're stuck, because she keeps sending me apartments, and I keep replying a variation on two themes:

1. Mum, I cannot afford to pay $2K a month for an apartment.
2. Mum, no matter how many times you tell me you like Hyde Park, I'm not fucking living in Hyde Park.

She has this bizarre failure to grasp that all places and people are not absolutely alike. It took her three years to work out why I didn't want to own a car I could drive to the El in the morning.

A CAR

I COULD DRIVE

TO PUBLIC TRANSIT

I just.

So we're having issues. But sooner or later either I'm going to find an apartment not in Hyde Park and she can stfu about it, or I will blow all six grand on superballs.