And I don’t usually help to increase the length of that life-span.

Anyway.

I might be moving (AGAIN), because I hate this dark little hell-hole known as my apartment. The other people who live in the various other suits in this house are a bunch of inconsiderate assholes that make way too much noise and DON’T CLEAN THE LAUNDRY LINT CATCHER THING. That’s one of my biggest not-walking-related pet peeves. Also, my landlady lives above us all and is physically incapable of NOT stomping when she walks as well as NOT shouting when she talks. So screw her.

I’m also tired of living in basements/ground floor apartments with people above me. Aside from the short stay in McConnell (which, despite the roaches, was a really awesome place), I’ve lived in “basements” since 9^th grade. The place I’m looking at now only costs $50 more than the place I live at now and is bigger, brighter, nicer, has no signs of silverfish, has no signs of spiders, newly remodeled, on the top floor, has a balcony, and allows CATS, so I can bring Annabelle up here when I come back up from being in Moscow in July. It also isn’t surrounded by this pine tree crap on all sides (SO SICK OF PINE TREES), so I won’t feel like I’m living in the Pacific Northwest 24/7. I really, REALLY hope I get it, ‘cause I think that would improve my “Vancouver sucks balls” attitude a little bit.

Hopefully yay. Hopefully.

I also realize that the urge to change location every year or so must be genetic, as even after I moved away from my mom’s direct influence, I’ve changed my housing once per year (Wallace year 1, McConnell year 2, Sean and the other dorks year 3, this hellhole year 4, and hopefully less of a hellhole next year). It’s funny and tragic at the same time.

Edit: I also like how MySpace is apparently letting me post blogs every other day now. Haha, but I guess I shouldn’t complain or it’ll flip out on my like before.

Today’s song: Octopus I Love You by Dalmatian Rex and The Eigentones