>Why hello there.
I am finally connected to the interweb and just in time too. Withdrawal symptoms were starting to drive me bonkers. I need my BBC, G&M, CBC fuel not to mention my daily dose of Savage Lurve. Anyways, an update:
A. and I have been here in our nation’s capital for just over a month. We left Wolfville on September 5 at the ungodly hour of 4am with two angry cats and too many bulging suitcases and landed in Ottawa a couple of hours later with two furious cats and not the faintest idea of where we were supposed to be going. After waiting for our rental truck for about an hour or so, we spent the rest of the day getting lost in Ottawa, keeping the cats from killing each other, and spending a ridiculous amount of money that we didn’t have on the various items we didn’t have which was basically everything (thanks go out to Ikea for having such cheap knick knacks and do dads).
The apartment, which we rented without ever seeing it first, is actually pretty spiffy. We have waterfront property (if by waterfront one means a swimming pool that looks like the world’s toilet) and a sweeping view of Ottawa Hydro. To our right is a quaint little housing project full of bad ass gangstas – well, wanna-be bad ass gangstas. The inside of the apartment is actually pretty great, especially when compared to the closet I was living in in Wolfville. There is an actual kitchen which does not double as a hallway AND a walk-in closet. Plus we have hardwood floors which is good because of the cats.
Ah yes the cats. Seb and Zoe. Doodle and Z-bone. King Doodle-banger and Zoeburger. Or whatever. Watching these two sort out their differences has proven to be better than television. Seb, an eight year old cat who up until recently was enjoying middle age and his 20 hour sleep schedule, has now been forced to accommodate a hyperactive teenage female cat who insists on sneaking up on him and biting his ass. Zoe is perhaps the boldest, if not the stupidest cat I’ve ever encountered. Far from being discouraged by the fact that Seb is three times her size, Zoe actually follows Seb around the house waiting for just the right moment to bounce on him and then gets pissy if he decides to retaliate. Poor Seb has taken to hiding in the kitchen cupboards to escape his roommate (Zoe hasn’t figured out the cupboards yet). Stay tuned for Zoe’s perspective on this living situation.
So we moved in. And then the task of finding employment could no longer be ignored. A. landed himself an interview with a temp agency the second day we were here and was quickly hooked up with a fantastically horrible job at a call centre. Luckily he was quickly able to upgrade himself and now has a spiffy job that I don’t understand but which I know doesn’t involve call centre-ing. I also know that he gets weekends off and this of course means that I hate him.
I, honours graduate of political science, have managed to nab myself a shockingly boring job as the assistant manager of a jacob junior. I am responsible for a myriad of tasks such as tracking sales, scheduling, folding, and telling other people how to sell ridiculously over-priced clothing made by 5 year olds in Indonesia to horribly bitchy 13 year olds and their terrible mothers in Canada. I won’t get into the details here because I have a post about retail brewing but know this: my brain is dying and my soul is being sucked out of my eyeballs. I-hate-retail.
I must cut this post off now as I have to leave for the one hour bus ride to work during which time I will knit part of a scarf, read the Feminine Mystique, and attempt to drown out the morons around me with Rage Against the Machine, Tool, or similar.
Things are good though.