Same Zip Code, Less Crackheads

The photo at left is the highlight of my week (next to finding out that we can move, that is). It's a Eureka bagless vacuum with three different kinds of filters, a telescoping duster that gets the crap sucked out of it when you place it back in its tube and flick a switch, and all sorts of neat little gadgets and attachments I will never use.
Basically I got this to replace my $40 Dirt Devil that I thought worked just fine the past four years until I found out how much crap it blows all over the floor when you think you're cleaning. I swept once with the little vacuum, went to Target and got the new one, came home and put it together, then promptly filled up the dirt container. It was so gross.

The allergist also recommended a Hepa-filtered vacuum that works both on bare floors as well as carpet. What a coincidence! This one has both features! Considering the place we're supposed to be moving to has absolutely no carpet, I hope it really does work on bare floors . . .

I'm trying to do what the doctor says. I don't usually do that. I just take the pill they give me for a little while and then forget to take it anymore, or I don't fill the prescription. But after learning the variety of allergic responses people have to different things, it's possible that I'm not even depressed when I think I am; it could just be due to all the mold.
By the way, that stuff is covering the wall in the basement if I didn't already tell you. At first I thought there was some green stuff growing down in one corner, then the landlady had someone tear out this 20 year-old wooden shelving units and I saw it. The entire wall on the back of the house is absolutely black and green. It's gross.

Of course, she hasn't cleaned anything yet. She's taken stuff out. She's hooked up a hose to the dryer (for the first time in three years). She's made a lot of noise about how much worse things are for her than will ever be for me and I should just feel lucky that I don't suffer the way she does. But she hasn't cleaned the f-ing basement. I don't particularly feel like getting down there with a surgical mask and doing it myself because it's not my responsibility. She's the one who claims she's known about the mold for years. She's the one who owns this house. She's the one who can't fork over the money for proper, preventative maintenance, so she should be the one to clean it.

We have an appointment to sign the lease on the new place tomorrow at 2pm. We're set to move out the weekend of April 15th. So if you or someone you know is willing to help us move (AGAIN), please let me know. We will do our best to repay you in some way or another.

The worst part about all this is that, once Cavan moves out, we won't be able to afford the house on our own, so we'll have to move yet again in a year or so. Not only is it difficult to find people to help because they're all staying in the same place and you keep changing addresses so it's not ever a fair trade, I'm just sick of everything being so temporary. One of the reasons we came back here was because we knew we could afford it without Cavan, and we could paint, so we made it more like our place.

My biggest concern is the utilities. We were looking for a bigger place in a nicer nieghborhood and we found it – and then some. It's at least one and a half times to twice the size of where we live currently. Now all we have to do is figure out a way to pay to heat and cool it. That's the worst thing about living in Indiana – there are about two weeks in the entire year where you aren't using some form of electricity or gas to try and make your home feel comfortable . . . It's going to be sweaters and long-johns for everyone next winter.

All that aside, however, I am excited about the possibilities of the new place. There are three different bedrooms, plus the third has a sunroom that Cavan can use as an office/TV room for video games. There's a good-sized living room, a formal dining room, a really big kitchen (easily three times the size of the one we have now), and even a breakfast nook. There's also a full bath upstairs and a half bath downstairs. That room is a little weird. It clearly used to be a “mudroom” but they threw in a toilet and sink. It's convenient, but you have to go through it to get to the backyard.
Well, technically that's not true. Which is another bonus about the new house; the yard on the west side of the double (our future side) is fenced seperately. You can go out through a door in the kitchen and just let the dogs pee and poo to their hearts' content. And not worry about them eating anyone else's dogs. You can get to the driveway, fenced backyard, and garage through that area, but it has its own gate, which is really nice.

Yet another plus is that the people on the east side are moving out in a few months as they're buying a house. Which means if you or someone you know is looking for a place and would like to have us as neighbors, we could try and get you in. I would like to live next to someone I like, not just some arbitrary strangers who never bother to do yardwork or who blast their stereo, or who screw like rabbits all the time.

What else? Oh, yes, they're professionally cleaning and painting before we move in. And we're allowed to paint our rooms upstairs if we like, as long as the colors are light enough to cover with a coat of neutral paint.

I just can't tell you how girly I get when I get a new place. It's pathetic. I'm mentally painting walls, rearranging furniture, drawing little diagrams, and shopping Target and Crate & Barrel, thinking about spending money I don't have on shower curtains, little tables, kitchen islands, furniture, towels, rugs, you name it.

If only someone could start a decorating fund for me so I could have a nice place that you wouldn't be worried to visit. I swear there is very little chance you will be car-jacked at the new place.

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