Moving...
It was bad enough when the movers were three hours late. It was worse when it started pouring rain just as all of my belongings were sitting outside of the moving truck, gathering puddles. It was really lousy when I sat on top of a large rubbermaid bin to contemplate having moved only to have my ass fall through the crack in the plastic top. None of these things inspired warm and fuzzy feelings.
However.
The very worst moment was picking up a box marked "BEDROOM" in order to move it to the actual bedroom and having said box start buzzing and...vibrating. Put the box down, box stops. Pick it up, box starts rocking. The movers transported that box several times before I picked it up. I expect they all made note of my phone number.
Strata Fees Include...
Before moving into my new condo I do a walk-through of the common areas with the Strata Council President to make sure any damage inflicted by me or my movers throwing my furniture into the walls would be paid for by me.
At least I think that was the point to the entire episode because I was too busy being overcome with lust. My Strata Council President (SCP) is disturbingly hot. And charming. And funny. And no wedding ring.
Naturally, this doesn't automatically make him single but it does mean I'm only slightly less likely to have to break a commandment to get into his pants and at the rate I'm going I'll consider this a moral victory. The man is fine. That's all I'm saying.
So fine in fact, that anytime I take out the garbage I brush my hair and put on lipgloss. If I check the mail I make sure I've shaved my armpits and if I so much as step outside my apartment I'll have checked for anything stuck in my teeth. Day to day living is exhausting, but naturally I don't run into the SCP at all.
Until last night, as I was coming home from a walk. Windblown, snotty from the cold, wearing really unlattering stretchy pants and trying to maneover an extra-large Tim Horton's steeped tea, my purse and a small paper bag containing a Tim Horton's white chocolate macademia nut cookie temporarily shoved into my mouth while fishing my keys out of my bag -- I manage to hit the button on the elevator when all hell breaks loose.
The lid comes off my tea nestled in the crook of my arm and splashes down my front, causing me to say jesusfuckingchrist with a cookie bag in my mouth causing me to drool and simultaniously realize I have snot running from my nose to the cookie bag.
So. Sexy.
Just then, I hear a door open around the corner and I KNEW. I'm not sure how, but I knew it would be him and sure enough, the SCP comes around the corner walking the cutest dog in the world. At first he looked at me like he didn't recognize me or was considering how the locks should probably be changed on the building to ensure no more homeless people sneak inside just to ride the elevator. Then he recognized me. Which was worse.
I managed to remove the cookie bag from my mouth and thought I was pretty smooth by crossing my arms and squelching most of the spilled tea into my armpit with the rest dripping down the bottom of my jacket onto the floor, which I'll probably be charged for by the Strata Council. We chatted for a moment or two, with my snotty nose still completely intact.
Stonehenge. Crop circles. Why I'm still single. Such mysteries.
I Need an App for That...
Saturday I'm shopping for home renovation stuff with two gay boys in Rona - a more unproductive combination does not exist. Suddenly, my phone makes a noise which is highly strange given nobody ever calls or texts me, I never turn it on, mostly because nobody ever calls or texts me. It's Alex, sending me a text message. I squee. I actually jumped up and down and clapped my hands in the lighting aisle. I shouldn't have squeed so hastily though. Exact text exchange and translation of text exchange as per below.
Alex: Just woke up. Was dreaming of you.
Bambi: Was it good?
Alex: (insert sound of crickets chirping here)
Translation by Bambi:
Alex: Just need an ego boost right now -- you're still in love with me right?
Bambi: Yes. Yes, I am.
Alex: Just checking.
