Sunday, July 18, 2004Welcome to My City
...now wash your germ-riddled hands, dammit!
So where to begin, where to begin?
I'm a city mouse again, here in the Hub. The hub of all the action, like it or not, I am now officially amidst the fray.
First order of the day will be to get a new job. Yes, I'm still working for Drugco, just not the same Drugco as before. I have been transplanted to the city branch of Drugco, which sucks just as much as any suburban Drugco, just with more action and a far easier commute. I'm going to have to get the hell out of here if I am ever going to chin-up over the fucking poverty line, y'know? Now that money means more to me than just this paper you can trade in for DVDs, I realize how little of it I make.
Part of what was holding me here (aside from retail being the only job available in the 'burbs) was health insurance, but after my last bout with illness (homicidal strep with a side of flu), I realized the insurance isn't helping me much, didn't even cover my antibiotics, so really what's the point? Time to move on.
So I know what I don't want to do, what do I want to do? It's a question I'm having a hard time answering these days.
Nonetheless, in between illnesses and career crises, I've been having a blast. My little love nest is shaping up to be quite appealing with it's bamboo blinds and flowy, fern-colored curtains. It's sealed-up fireplace home to many a votive candle. The bed raised a good six inches for additional storage making it feel more opulent somehow. A large, wooden table left behind that I've decided to adopt for a worktable. I rather like it here.
I have a rooftop outside my bedroom window where I can climb out to smoke and survey my kingdom, and a gray tabby cat from the neighboring building often springs out to either wind playfully around my legs or beat me unmerciful, depending on his mood. We've nicknamed him "Joe" after the lovable but overbearing snackwagon driver from "The Station Agent".
I am rubbing shoulders with Berkeley College of Music, which means that always there is music coming from somewhere. This, on the whole, is a good thing, but it appears that one of my neighbors is a drummer and if he doesn't stop practicing after midnight on the weeknights, I promise I will find him and shove those drumsticks so far up his ass he'll never need to buy toothpicks again.
I am learning that I can be quite an accomplished cook if I put my mind to it, which surprises me as much as anyone else. I am also learning that I can be a brilliant bartender, which doesn't surprise me at all.
Hey, speaking of the booze, did I mention our fancy little treehouse is located directly upstairs from a liquor store? Is that handy or what? And aside from being just handy in the sense that I can procure a six-pack in my pajamas, if need be, it's also handy for security reasons. You see, we have a professional ass-kicker manning the counter downstairs, so if anyone gets any funny ideas about breaching the sanctity of the treehouse, all it takes is a phonecall and I've got all the shattered skulls and busted kneecaps a gal could ever need. Handy that.
And he's cute, too. So cute that I wish he was single so that I could put him up for auction on this site and find him The Greatest Girlfriend of All Time. Seems the least I can do for the two times so far he's stalked our halls with his Louisville slugger looking all badass for us.
So all in all, this is quite a gem of an address, and I feel lucky to be here. I have a great roommate, too, and provided I can stop catching cooties, I should be having some blogworthy adventures in no time. I've already got a few pictures of my brave new world to show you, and once I've trimmed them for filesize, I'll post them for your vewing pleasure.
So, until next time, Kitten, check your local rooftops, you just might see me.
posted by taiwan_on 'round 9:15 PM#