I’m sorry I left you. The past few weeks it’s been all I can do to get up in the morning and figure out how pants work, so writing words that make sense was just too insurmountable a task for lil’ old me.
Don’t worry (because I’m sure you were <3)– I wasn’t in rehab, depressed, or giving birth to some babies.
No, my dears, I’ve just been busy. Busy like a bee; rather, busy like the entire North American population of bees compacted into a 130 lb girl with a slight lisp and some questionably neat tattoos.
Among the totally awesome and jealousy-inducing things I’ve been up to, like getting learned on how to become an educational professional in the secondary sector (or, “high school teacher,” in douche-less terms); working 5am ’til noon as a financial reporter of sorts; managing the busy social lives of two snarky little felines, and crying in the backseat of my Honda Fit, I have also been looking for a place to live.
Are you familiar with educational psychology? Well,
I just learned about it two weeks ago I am, and to put it in the terms a pedantic dickhead would use, my Maslovian pyramid has been collapsing.
The past eight weeks of finding a place to live have shat themselves into my life thusly:
8 weeks ago: Find Awesome Roommate #1 through a mutual friend, on the hunt for Awesome Apartment in California’s East Bay.
6 weeks ago: Find Awesome Roommate #2 through other mutual friend, increase hunt for Awesome Apartment to hunt for Awesome House, awesomely excited. Gave notice at current apartment because what could go wrong?
5 weeks ago: Things go wrong. Awesome Roommate #1 turns out to not be so awesome and bails via Facebook message. It’s cool, I
am secretly irritated to the point of tears understand where she’s coming from. Awesome Roommate #2 and I look for Awesome Roommate #3 to replace Awesome Roommate #1. Enter: The Craigslist Roommate.
4 weeks ago: Cry a lot because nothing is happening and I have to move out in three weeks.
3 weeks ago: Cry a lot and consider taking up my college-age drinking habits to numb the horror of being homeless in two weeks and still having nowhere to live.
2 weeks ago: Behold, a blessing from Christ Himself: The Craigslist Roomate! Roommate #2, Craigslist Roomate and I meet up for a tryst at Starbucks. It’s love at first sip. We’re a trio to content with the Three
Stooges Musketeers; The Spice Girls without that ginger and the ugly sports one; The Holy Trinity with vaginas. Roommate #2 and I find an Awesome Place to Live, tell Craigslist Roommate, she digs it– without seeing it– we put down a deposit because what could go wrong?
10 days ago: Things go wrong. Craigslist Roommate looks at apartment– after non-refundable deposit has been paid– and “Just dosen’t feel it.” She bails. Hard. Like, she’s currently in Central America. Hey, no big deal, Roommate #2 and I can find a place!
Roommate #2 has to back out as well– although not for dickish or douchebaggy reasons, like Roommate #1 and Craigslist Roommate.
So, very long and marginally interesting story aside, Hannah has been preoccupied with rebuilding her nest. Hannah hasn’t had time– between homework, househunting, crying in the shower, and waking up at 4:55 in the morning– to write jokes and be witty.
I’d argue that Hannah still doesn’t apparently have time for the jokes and wittiness, but at least she’s writing (or is she?! All this third person is throwing Hannah off… Who am I?!)
I apologize, but fear naught, for I have not finally decided to give this blog up entirely forsaken you. The little bears and I are working on settling into a new home, and classes are scheduled to slow down a bit, so I’ll be back in full swing, back in the saddle, locked and loaded, whatever other tired, stupid, obscurely figurative metaphor you’d like to invoke to convey the fact that I’LL BE BAHHK in your face soon/ now.
Love, kisses, and kittens,