I really didn’t think I’d pick this back up again, but things have sort of settled down now and I kind of miss typing something, anything. Plus, some strange shit has happened in the world and I kind of need to vent.

They’re reasonably sure this whole COVID thing isn’t going to last more than a few weeks (“they” being most reasonable people), but as of two weeks ago the country has started shutting down. We’re talking full-blown lockdowns like something out of a dystopian novel; kids aren’t allowed to go to school, corporations are sending workers home…I mean Christ, the Waffle House closed. It’s just nuts.

My own boss told the team this past week to take our laptops and stuff home with us and to expect not to come back in until our executives are sure we won’t get a lawsuit or something. It’s nice to know that the leadership genuinely cares about the health and well-being of their peons.

I give it less than a month. Corporate America runs only on the hunched backs of desk jockeys. Something something butts need to be in seats or managers have nothing to do.

As it is, I guess I can expect to get a lot more use out of my new apartment than planned. The landlady emailed me a few days after I moved out to let me know that my new unit was ready, and a couple of friends helped me move in earlier this week.

It’s…not great. I’m in the building furthest back from the road and probably the least well-maintained. The landlady proudly described my unit as ‘updated’ simply because the kitchen appliances were black instead of white, and the linoleum in the bathroom was replaced at least in the past year.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

For reference, it is (again) a one bedroom on the second level. You enter from the breezeway right into the main living area - a big, rectangular room with the kitchen on one end to your right, a large-ish space for your couch and tv to your left, and a wide sliding door leading out onto the dinky balcony beyond that. There’s a small area vaguely reminiscent of a hallway directly across from the entrance with the door to the little 8x9 bedroom on one side and the bathroom on the other. The kitchen is smallish and galley style with an island separating it from the rest of the main living and a tiny room in the corner which doubles as a pantry and laundry closet.

..Which reminds me - I’ll need to purchase a washer and dryer (ugh).

Moving my shit in didn’t take long - Raging Asshole kept most of our (his?) furniture since he was the one who originally bought all of it. Dad helped me pick out a new mattress, but otherwise I’ll need to go shopping for something to fill the beige void that is my living room.

The cats have adjusted to the new space a lot faster than I have - Beans and Tidbit seem to like having the mattress on the floor, and Fuzz Aldrin has been taking advantage of the way the balcony doors get sunlight pretty much all afternoon.

I’ve just been keeping myself busy by focusing on work or fucking around with the first draft of The Book (title pending). It has been difficult not to completely sink into depression, though. Nights are the hardest - my mind keeps wandering back to the old apartment and wondering what Asshole and his flavor of the week are doing…

…Admittedly, they are probably fucking on our (his?) bed and the thought does not make me feel better.