Apartments and Purple Tubes

We got a call from the new apartment complex the Professor and I would like to move to. They have a three bedroom, two and a half bath coming available on 7/12/02. They wanted us to get paperwork submitted as soon as possible on it though, intimating that they had others on the waiting list. Ordinarily I’d have resented the pressure tactics, but since I’m fairly anxious to get this settled as well, I really didn’t care this time. I tackled The Professor as soon as he got home from class last night and we tackled the application. (An aside: Had they used any smaller a font on the application form, we’d have needed to rent an electron microscope to read it.)

Also got a notice of attempt to deliver from the post office … my guess is that the ring I inherited has been fixed and set with a new stone. I’m really anxious to see it. The Prof promised to pick it up at the post office for me today, after he gets up. Since he went to bed at five this morning, I don’t expect that will happen until after noon.

MWUFFLTHBH is going to meet up with the Prof and I some time on Saturday and we’ll all go to see the Spiderman movie. I’m really psyched about it. Spidey this weekend, Attack of the Clones in two weeks … Life is good. It will be especially good to see MWUFFLTHBH – it’s been too long. I think I’ll try to suggest dinner out rather than me cooking anything though.

ACfH has utterly destroyed the purple tube toy that DiverBoy gave me last summer. She adored the toy, and kept stealing it from where ever I tried to hide it. It was a long, hollow purple tube with a wire that ran through it that had a feather attached at the end. A handle at the opposite end let you push and pull the feather in and out of the tube. Terribly simple, but then so is ACfH. She managed to rip the handle and wire from the tube in an attempt to get at the feather, and then discovered she liked the empty tube better than the feather anyhow. I’d put the toy back together twice after she stole and dismembered it, but this time the little itty bitty kitty teeth punctured the tube too many times, and it was time to bid Mr. Tube a fond farewell.

At least, that’s what I though. ACfH had other ideas resurrecting Mr. Tube twice by theiving him out of the trash can. The third time I interred him, Mr. Tube was put into a plastic bag and then buried under junk mail. She hasn’t figured out that he’s under all that paper, waiting for her to exhume him, so that should be an end to that.

Finally, for two people I’ve become quite fond of:

I think he’s probably good enough. And I suspect she’ll be anything but a ball and chain.