Texas to Rhode Island, Part Three

This post will be the last of my quasi-daily entries that I tried to type out during the first few days after our initial arrival.

A SHORT LIST OF RANDOM STUFF:
Dunkin’ Donuts on every corner and even inside various retail establishments. I love that they add just-the-right-amount-of-cream-and-sugar for you and they usually have fresh bagels.

Huge Salvation Army around the corner.

Two grocery stores within walking distance.

Wayland Square also within walking distance. We ate here last week. Supposed to be a new/good place but the expensive menu and no beers on tap are the only things I can remember worth noting. Delaney wants to go back on a Tuesday for the special.

Thayer Street / RISD / Brown about 10 blocks away

What’s weird? Kidz Bop, where children eerily sing all the latest songs including Kelly Clarkson, Madonna, Rihanna plus other painfully annoying “hits.” They also sound waaaay too happy. Its just all very weird.

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DAY EIGHT:
Trailer / moving-in day aka PURE HELL. Of course, this would be the hottest day since we got here, because duh, why wouldn’t it be when we have to move all of our shit through a stuffy foyer and up a somewhat large, twisty flight of stairs. Brutal, that Murphy's Law. I stayed out of the way most of the first hour by painting some of the kitchen cabinetry while D and the guys brought up the furniture.

Near the end of our two hours I asked Bill who to make the check out to? When I handed it to him downstairs he asked, “Is this supposed to be a tip?” Translation: “Is this supposed to be a tip, you bitch?” I boldly replied “YES[and you better be happy ‘cause it was gonna be $50].” to which he said, “Well then we can work a little while longer.” !!!!!!! We were all set after they unloaded the rest of our super heavy book cartons. I had tipped $100.

DAY TEN:
Organizing our way through the chaos.


The dining room: a depressing, numbing sight. Besides the bath, every other room looked like this. We could hardly move. It's a lot better now and will be great when everything is done.


DAY 11:
Discovered that the closest Ikea is not in Connecticut - about two hours away - but in Mass - only 30 minutes! Below is one of our purchases which we're using as a dual workstation. Delaney modified it a bit with casters. I think its one of the more well-made pieces Ikea sells. Solid wood construction and it came with a leaf plus the topper looks like a butcher's block.


I think I may have a slight concussion from hitting my head on the bottom of a corner banister in the stairwell. Square in the middle of my noggin. Our Saturday night is consisting of beer and Overboard since we’ve given up on putting anything else together.

DAY 12:
A girl is moving into the apartment above us. She's been here approx. four days and we’ve decided she must be car-less, that its her mother’s car blocking the driveway at random times. Hello, Considerate! Anyway, this girl stomps around EVERYwhere. At all hours. For example: she was up until at least 2AM shuffling stuff around and then fully awake at 6:45AM moving more shit and yelling up to her roommate in the stairwell, which is in the center of the house, next to our bedroom. (Diagram forthcoming if I feel like it.) I’m pissed. Delaney’s pissed. There’s been talk of writing a note since day one. I have no problems writing notes, I actually L-O-V-E scrawling out the bitchy / smartass “please keep the noise down after 10” or whatever messages. Love it. I smile on the inside and out when I write them. A long time ago I was on the receiving end of these notes when Lisa was my roommate. It was our male neighbor from downstairs, Mitchell, that left them for us. **The building was really old with thin hardwoods. So I told Delaney that he should be the one to write the note since it scared the shit out of me when I was 19.

**Ask me about the New Year’s Eve when Drunk Lisa pounded on the floor and yelled “FUCK YOU MITCHELL!!!!!!!!!” followed by kicking and screaming. I. was. so. pissed.

But back to D. This was our discussion about how we should write a note…

Me: A very bitchy note.
D: Yeah, bitchy, but what if I just write “SHUT THE FUCK UP” and then pierce my finger and smear blood on the paper so they’ll think we’re devil worshipers and then tack it to the door with a switchblade.
Me: They will freak the fuck out!

F the smart note, I say devil worshipers all the way.

And PS Mandy: I have not ruled out a friendly visit. They have dogs, after all. (cute dogs!)


For good measure...