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When you walk out of the front door to my apartment building, you'll be standing on what's known 'round these parts as a "Stoop." A Stoop, now, is a set of about six or seven stairs sitting in front of a hobbled apartment building. People from that apartment building like to sit, or "Chill" on the stoop with their friends, or "Homeys" and enjoy the occasional beverage, or "40." When you walk out onto my stoop you'll face my street: Halsey. Pronounced Hall - Zee. Every single time I've walked out of my apartment building, down my stoop, onto Halsey Street, I've made a left turn. Every single time. You make one left and walk down Halsey a couple blocks and you're at the Subway. You make one left, walk down a couple blocks, turn left, walk about five or six more blocks and you're at the supermarket/McDonalds/White Castle/Hollywood Video/Everything Else. You make two consecutive lefts and walk down a couple blocks and you're at the laundromat. The point is, it's all been left turns for me. So today, for the very first time, I turned right.

You know what I found? A park! It's about the length and width of one and a half football fields, and it's exactly one block from where I live. Apparently, it's been there this whole time and I never bothered noticing because I never turned right. I also found a bevy of small convenience marts, known as "Groceries" or "Grocery Stores" even though they're AM/PMs without the warmed-over wieners and the gasoline. Turn right, walk past the park a couple more blocks and you know what you've got? A couple metal bins where you can donate clothing. So, that's what I did today.

Ever since I moved here, I had this little box, about 3.5 feet long and 1.5 feet wide and 1 foot tall. It's what I used to ship some clothes over here, among other odd necessities. For the last month and a half, this box has been doubling as my bedroom's coffee table as I stuffed the insides with unwanted clothes/shoes and turned it upside down. When Emily returned from her Christmas vacation in Jacksonville on the 28th, she took a look at my box and decided that the damned thing needed replacing. So, she bought me a like-sized see-through plastic bin, and I've gotta tell ya it's a decided improvement. Now I've got the bin, I've got the four-tiered faux-wood shelf, and the three-tiered metal Dolphin Shelf on which to stack/store clothes, books, CDs, pictures, Buddha Candle, and others. The box has been disposed of; happy new year. All of those unwanted clothes/shoes: donated.

I woke up at 9am after spending my post-hangover hours last night bagging up all of my possessions. Reason: another extermination. Jenny and Emily were busy little beavers, taking Liz's absence as an opportunity to rampage through her room, bagging every single thing, taking apart her bedframe, and readying their own bedrooms for today's impending extermination. Liz's bedframe is made of (miming Mr. Woodchuck) ... wood. You know what REALLY likes wood almost as much as clothes, mattresses, and human blood? Bedbugs. You know what Jenny and Emily found in Liz's wooden bedframe that caused much horrified shrieking and heebie-jeebie shaking? They weren't termites, my friends. It was a fucking refugee camp full of bedbugs. Adults, adolescents, egg-patches, the whole schmear! I cowered in fear in my bedroom, itching like crazy for no good reason while Jenny and Emily attacked the bedbugs with what they hate the most: hot steam and squishing fingers/paper towels. They probably killed thirty or so; Liz has REALLY been half-assing the effort in this whole bedbug eradication process.

In addition to finding them there, Jenny ran across some more (mostly dead) bedbugs in our kitchen cupboards, and one live one walking in through the kitchen window. Question: what the fuck are bedbugs doing out of bed? That and many others were instructed of me to ask the exterminator upon his arrival today at 1pm, since Emily and Jenny were working. So, I got up at 9am to give myself proper time to finish bagging up my shit. I left the apartment twice this morning, once to find out exactly how far those Clothes Donation Bins were located and once for about 8 minutes to walk to the building next door where they make Chinese food (I had the Shrimp Chow Mein and white rice, $3.25 and good for a full day's eating). I'm thinking of going back again tomorrow because I've yet to do any actual grocery shopping. But, that's not the point. The point is, those two times I left the apartment were hours before the exterminator was to arrive. One O' Clock came and went. I took a nap on my futon while leaving the apartment music/fan-free so I could hear any potential front-door pounding, but it made no difference. Emily got home early from work at 2:50pm today due to it being Gerald Rudolph Ford Is Finally Dead Day to find me snoozing. The exterminator was called and we received no answer. My laundry has since been washed; it sits bagged and unfolded, as does my bedding. So, in short, we have no idea when this problem will be dealt with, but we better get sprayed and bombed before Liz gets back this weekend, because her room is fucked up right now.

As for me, I'm still finding ways to get rid of more shit. I managed to return here with more crap than I left with, and that was when I had Christmas presents to dispense.
 
 
Current Mood: Lucid & New Hatted
Current Music: The Libertines - The Man Who Would Be King