“What, that?” I said. “No, that’s just where the paint has chipped off the door. That’s why it’s brown.”
“No, not that. THAT. On the ground. What is that?”
And there, sitting in a quiet, little unassuming pile in the corner of a door jam in my new (to me) apartment, was poop. It wasn’t small enough to be a mouse’s, and not big enough to be a dog’s. Instead it was a grouping of pellets, perhaps from a rabbit. I bent down and inspected the specimen. Without touching, of course.
Yep. It was definitely poop.
I grabbed a paper towel and scooped up the pile as my sister-in-law, disgusted, watched from afar. The poop was clearly old and crusty, which for some reason made me feel better. At least it wasn’t fresh, right? Because that means it’s at least been a while since a live animal of some sort was in my house, pooping.
Such was my introduction to my new home in a new city. Surprisingly, the droppings didn’t really bother me as much as they probably should have. I’ve come a long way in what I can handle. Losing my job? Near mental breakdown. Poop on the floor? Whatev.
Although that wasn’t the only issue upon moving in. Seems there was a slight miscommunication between the landlord and the utilities’ company last week, and I had power but no hot water. Let’s just say I wouldn’t need to join a gym if I kept up those ab workouts just trying to avoid frigid water spilling down my back in a shower that’s smaller than a cruise ship bathroom. Other than that, the apartment is fantastic. Cheap rent, new appliances and hardwood floors, all in a charming old house with enormous rooms and sky-high ceilings to boot.
So after the sub-freezing shower-induced headache subsided and my family headed back home, I was left with boxes to unpack and a life to start.
But without Internet, I felt incapable of doing hardly anything. I hadn’t checked my email in probably 36 hours, let alone stalked my friends on facebook. So after picking up some curtain rods at Target, I drove around the city in an attempt to find free WiFi. A phone call to The Artist (who did a little internet research for me) led me to the public wireless network downtown. Of course, being a Sunday evening, none of the municipal buildings was open. So instead I sat in my parked car outside the library with my laptop like a creeper as a handful of cars drove past. This is how I get things done.
No joke, there was totally a guy in the bar wearing this.
Now it’s Wednesday night and I have hot water, Internet, cable, a new cell phone (that was an entire ordeal in and of itself) and am beginning to settle in quite nicely. I even made a few friends last night after working a 13-hour day when one of the sports guys invited me out for a beer and a cheeseburger. The bar was smoky and the people were trashy (minus the tall, awkward guy dressed head-to-toe in what I can only guess was an authentic X-Men replica suit), but it totally beat eating alone. And I got to know two of my coworkers outside the office, who gave me the lowdown on office gossip. Though, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything particularly juicy. Damn.
So work is good, although I’m already swamped and feeling like I’m in over my head. I’m essentially doing the job I had in Culpeper, on top of covering two other beats. I guess being busy is better than being bored. Plus, the people are great and my boss is a riot. And there’s a young professionals mixer tomorrow night, which means an opportunity to meet more people.
I think I’ll be ok. As long as whatever left me the little present on my floor doesn’t show back up.
