Life summary

Real quick.

Found a place to live that was awesome. It was great. The owner ran out of money and said it wouldn't be done until October. The property management company found us other places to stay in until it was done. 2 were really, really awful.

One was okay and I was all for it but Nick didn't like it. I just wanted a place to live. We looked at that place on Monday. That's when the property management guy told us that our dream place won't be done until the end of October. Maybe. But we really shouldn't hold out hope.

So that was that.

Then Nick was cruising Craigslist and I was drowning my sorrows in sleep. We found a place on Monroe Center, looked at it Friday at noon, loved it, told the guy then and there that we'd take it and now we have a place to live.

In other news, I am sick of this job. The other French girl on my team is leaving on August 21 so I will be the only French speaker after 10pm. I hate speaking French so hard.

And that's what my life's been like.

UGH

So our application was denied. For zero reason. It costs 140 dollars more than our old apartment and we're making double what we did back then.

But we still don't make enough somehow.


I don't want to look at any more places. I am so tired of this. We have less than a month to find a new place.


Ugh. I hate this so much.

Movin' on up!

Nick and I found an apartment. Finally. And because we are now earning twice as much as before (yay! full time job!), we can afford an awesome apartment in an awesome neighborhood downtown.

Yes, I am an adult.

We looked at this building when we first moved in together but it was condos back then and WAY above our budget.

Friends, I give to you our future apartment (As long as they accept our application. But as I said, they turned these condos into apartments so they are pretty desperate.):





Yes, it's the floorplan just rotated around but I like it better the second way. I think you can see the layout better. The door is at the bottom and the balcony at the top just like when you walk into the apartment.

Here's the website with photos but our kitchen is a lot bigger than the one they show.

There is an exercise room (and room for the Wii fit in the apartment!) and a movie room that you can reserve with big leather seats with cupholders and a big screen. There is a trash chute on every floor (and one right outside our potential apartment), recycling downstairs and a two-story heated garage in which we will have a reserved parking spot.

My parents are trying to convince Nick and I to just buy a house already. Since we don't want to stay in Michigan and don't know how long we'll be here, we decided to just get another apartment until our plans sort themselves out.



On the new job end, things are getting better. This job is going to be so, so easy. The hardest part is going to be speaking French but seriously? It's not going to kill me. And my accent already tells them that I'm not French so any mistakes after that will be a given.

I got in a giant French sucks fight earlier this week but let's leave that for later.



Yay! New apartment! Yay! Being an adult!

Being an adult sucks

I don't know about this job yet and don't feel like talking about it/have the time to but I have a story to tell you:

Today, we had a trainer come in and teach us Google Earth. Before we started, he went around the room and asked our names and for us to say something in our language. He was French African.

Please tell me you are feeling the same thing I was: DREAD. PANIC. DREAD.

So we go around the room and everyone is saying five bajillion sentences and the other two French people have great accents and each have two paragraphs prepared already.

So he gets to me and all I can think to say is "ta mère est un pamplemousse." I can't call his mother a grapefruit! Who knows what connotation that has! I am probably calling her a whore or something.

What do I do? What do I do? OH! MAKE A JOKE! People love jokes! They will be so busy laughing that they won't notice that you say "Bone-jewurrr y'all"! Make a joke, Rachel.

Do I say my name in French or English? What did the Hope girl say? KAH-Rhen? Okay, so French.

"Je m'appelle Rachelle et je ne parle pas français."

Everyone is staring at me. Why are they staring? Did I miss an article? "Parlez-vous anglais?" No. No article needed. I said the "ne" but they can forgive that, I was nervous, I had to prepare a simple sentence. THIS IS A JOKE. I just said "I don't speak French" in French! Ha ha. Laugh already. No one is laughing. Okay.

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe...?"

Did they get it? Okay. He got it. And I got a little laugh. Ugh. Do these people have no sense of humor? Hope girl is staring at me. I'm not even looking at British guy. Heaven forbid he judge me. He's British. We left them for a reason. And Hope girl liked France. Screw them.

Reasoning doesn't stop the embarrassment. I can feel myself turning red. I am warm, it's warm in here. Ugh. I am a retard. Why did I think this job would be okay? I can no longer get away with the fact that I don't speak French.

I told them up front. I told them it was terrible! It's not my fault!

During break, I am furiously checking the internet as I have chosen sleep over Google Reader for the past week and have 97 unread items. I AM STARING AT THE SCREEN AND NOT WELCOMING CONTACT.

Hope girl turns around. TURN BACK AROUND, GIRL. DO NOT WANT YOUR HUMORLESS FACE LOOKING AT ME. AM ON THE INTERNETS.

"Bonjour, Rachelle."

Cut her off, cut her off! There's no way I'm speaking French to her and letting her judge me. I AM NOT YOUR FRIEND. I hate France! I hate French! I just told you I don't speak French.

"Oh, no. I cannot think to speak French today." Still staring at my 97 Google Reader items. Must label all interesting things.

"Oh. I was just... I was wondering why you said you didn't speak French."

I looked over at her. Oh, God. She is looking at me with pity and concern. Cut it off quick! No friends! No pity! No French!

"It was A JOKE."

"Oh." She turns back around quickly. The conversation is over.

Was I just a bitch to her? I think I was just a bitch. Whatever. She's not talking to me.

Ugh. Why don't these people get jokes?

At least they are all nice.

Nick's coworker also passed away Sunday night. He was 35, divorced, had two daughters and had a massive heart attack in his sleep.

See why I hate April?

omgwtf

One of my friends (as Nick enjoys pointing out frequently, my internet friends (that I have never met in my life but talk to all the time (and sometimes I think of/see things that they would totally love (and then tell them about it later and of course they love it/already know about it)))) lives in NYC. She's finishing up grad school in forensics right now, at the same time I'm finishing up college. We are bonding over last minute exams and papers.

She works for the NYPD. She was working in forensics but is now working in narcotics. She's very good friends with her coworkers as many of them are/were classmates.

One of these coworkers was found stabbed to death this morning.

And even though I don't really know her, even though we've never met, I still feel just as upset and sickened as I would if we were close friends. But unlike my other friends, I can't hop in the car and go see her. Or call her and meet up somewhere. I can't be there for her. I can't hug her and tell her everything will be okay. So I am just reassuring her everywhere I can. Facebook, her journal, everywhere.

Ugh ugh ugh. I was just thinking about how awesome my life has been so far, how little of a dent 22 years is, and looking forward to the rest of awesomeness. I only hope that her life was just as good. And that her friends and coworkers can just keep breathing, just keep moving.

Update

Bad news comes in threes, right?

Nick's grandmother (the one on his father's side, the one his parents are staying with)'s best friend passed away yesterday. Four years ago on the 15th, Nick's grandfather (her husband) passed away.

So at 9 Sunday morning, we all got up and drove up to the house to basically house-sit while Grandma got out.



I got to see the house in daylight on Sunday. I don't know what was the worst thing to see: how small the hole is...the hole that used to be the house, the steps that led to the front door that are now cement steps to nothing, how little is left or the charred leaves and grass surrounding the house, the charred path carved out behind the house to the man who started it all, the ash that threatened to jump the road to take out another house. I don't know.

I think I was in shock before then because Sunday night it really hit me that it was all gone. And Nick's parents are spending their days making lists of everything they had, trying to remember everything they lived with, how old it was, where they bought it and quoting things that have no price. Things like Nick's grandfather's woodworking tools, the baby clothes, his great-grandmother's handmade quilts, his grandfather's guns, the bunk bed his father made, his mother's wedding dress, Jess' cake and all the pictures of everyone and everything.



I feel like I need to be helping out more but there's nothing we can do. I can make food, I guess. I can give hugs. But these lists, the insurance stuff, everything. I can't help.

When they start to look for places to live, then I can help.



Thanks for everything, kids. Love ya.