It has been a ridiculous month. I've abandoned any semblance of even a vegetarian diet. The contents of my refrigerator just confuses me, but really due to events (which will be explained if you decide to keep reading) I've reached the point of not caring. Rotisserie chicken? Sure why not. Hospital Turkey sandwich? If it'll keep the morphine from making me vomit, bring it.
Its not that I don't care..... its mostly that I don't have any energy to care. (I've stayed mostly paleo bootcampers, just fyi)
I've been cycling through bouts of crying, laughing hysterically, and screaming my fool head off in an attempt to process the events of the past three weeks.
Portland is a lovely place and like Seattle, it is subject to lots and lots of rain. I tell people I grew up in a puddle.
However, it is usually my preference that this puddle stay outside of my home....
My roommate and I came home after a very long twelve hour day, to find our apartment under water ---well 1 to 2 inches of standing water covering the entire floor--- and Moe the dog looking horribly guilty"I only peed a little in the corner"
Portland is a lovely place and like Seattle, it is subject to lots and lots of rain. I tell people I grew up in a puddle.
However, it is usually my preference that this puddle stay outside of my home....
My roommate and I came home after a very long twelve hour day, to find our apartment under water ---well 1 to 2 inches of standing water covering the entire floor--- and Moe the dog looking horribly guilty
The simultaneous need to laugh, vomit and cry hit me like a bus as I stepped onto the sopping rugs and felt the water disperse on either side of my stocking feet.
Squish. Splash. Squish. Splash.
I picked up a sopping pair of boots and the knit gloves I'd been working on for my sister. A little squeeze and water rained down. Just things right??
The next few days were chaotic. Danielle and I salvaged as much as we could. Wonderful friends took us in, until we had thoroughly convinced Francine, our landlord, that no our apartment was not tenable in its current state. Yes that was actually brought into question. No we cannot simply lay some towels down.
So. We had to move. Don't worry, the timing couldn't be better. January is ideal for moving, I'm rolling in the moolah, and its not like Danielle is leaving for a fantastic month-long dream-achieving adventure.
Oh wait...
The apartment searched ensued. The Suz helped me search through the lovely North Portland neighborhood on rainy Sunday afternoon...
Apt 1
Description: A cute, cozy studio in the heart of the Kenton neighborhood.
Actuality: a comically small 180 sq ft shit hole, five blocks from the dancing bear. Plus side? I could stir something on the stove while taking a shower.
Rent: 695; deposit 1200 (FOR WHAT???), Required year long lease.
Apt. 2
Description: Welcome home to ParkView Terrace (I am already sketched out...). Two br 1 bath pet friendly apartments with access to pool, gym and across from the park. Give us a call and we'll welcome you home!
Actual: Okay. I didn't make it into the apartments.... We called the number on the GIANT banner out side.
Apt. Guy: *grumble* hello?
Me: Hi I am calling about the the Parkview terrace apartments.
AG: They aren't open.
Me: Excuse me?
AG: THEY ARENT OPEN, It IS Sunday.... What do you do on Sundays?
Me: Oh oh I am sorry, I wasn't trying to disturb you, I was just......
AG: Well I was sleeping. What do you want anyway?
Me: Well I did want to view the apartments, but I think I'll go elsewhere....
Apt 3
Description: Willamette Terrace Apartments, in Cathedral Park area of St. Johns. Cute hood. Sign out front says "Apartment Available"and has a number listed.
Actual: Again, I didn't get to see the apartment... but another entertaining phone call ensued...
Little Crazy Old Lady: Hello?
Me: Hello, I am calling about the apartment available in St. Johns?
LCOL: Well I don't have any! (sounding very confused....)
Me: I'm sorry? The Willamette Terrace apartments in St. Johns? There is an apt. available sign?
LCOL: No no, I don't have any. I just leave that there....
Me: Oh okay...
LCOL: But I do have an apt opening up.
Me: *hits face with hand* okay... great, can you tell me about it?
LCOL: $695 two bedroom.
Me: Great. Do you allow Pets?
LCOL: What kind of pets? We don't allow pets. Well only service pets. But no dogs. So I guess service cats only. You know I have never actually touched a cat?
I can't make this shit up.
In the midst of chaos, I'd abandoned pretty much any semblance of routine. I finally made it back to my early morning bootcamp class a week after the apartment flooded. My little booty family welcomed me with open arms, words of encouragement and offered meals, places to stay and anything I may have needed. Unbelievably blessed to have these people in my life. Feeling great after a kick-ass workout, I started out to my car, with a little bounce in my step.
I took one step off the curb into, what I thought was a shallow puddle but turned out to be a clogged storm drain. Snap crackle pop and I was on the ground, wreathing in pain and swearing profusely. Cue tears and vomit.
One ambulance ride with very attractive men, a shit ton of morphine, vicodin and a turkey sandwich later, I was passed out in the Sunnyside ER.
Diagnosis: Ripped all the ligaments in my right ankle, bruised the bones in my knees. No driving, no walking, physical therapy in my future.
Cue insane laughter.
Danielle rescued me from the hospital and took me home to our swampy apartment. My parents drove all the way down to Portland for the afternoon to make sure my foot was still in fact attached. Suz and Dave took care of me when they could. In spite of all the shittyness, I was reminded I have really wonderful friends and family.
Barely able to walk, let alone move a couch up the stairs, my bootcampers and the suz came to my rescue once again, and moved all of my stuff (and I have A LOT of stuff) in a record 3.5 hours. It was an incredible sign of support.
I've been sweating along side these folks for only two months and they dropped everything to help a fellow bootcamper out. How did I get so lucky?
Things are slowly, but surely, getting better, but I'm still having the occasional breakdown in the middle of my kitchen floor.
Last nights scene: newly-ish single (oh yeah add that to the fun) , strong woman sobbing in the middle of her first solo apartment because her dog ran away and dinner is on fire and shit keeps breaking and there is something living in the wall in her closet.
Again, I can't make this shit up.
***Update due to confusion. Things are fine. Moe is back and happy and chasing her tail
No comments:
Post a Comment