Down the road I go.

I spent three hours yesterday packing up my apartment after church. Granted, most of the time was spent boxing up my ridiculous amount of books and taking down my Christmas tree.

Yes, in April.

For those of you who don’t know, Rob and I bought a house March 31. Coincidentally on my birthday.

It’s a beautiful, old Victorian mansion with a few minor problems, but we are excited to do the projects… together.

It’s okay to vomit. Everyone else does.

For the past three months, I’ve been living in Rob’s GORGEOUS downtown condo. It’s on the 10th floor of a great building overlooking the Mississippi River and the St. Anthony Falls. Because Rob and I hole up in Minneapolis for months at a time, I haven’t been to my apartment in just over three months. Not even to stop there to pick up books, clothing, to take down my Christmas tree, nothing.

The last time I was there was in February with Rob. We spent two nights, two nights we will never get back and our noses will never forget.

My roommate had rotting cans of tuna scattered around his room, a litter box that had never been changed (going on four months), MY dishes with crusted on, decaying food, and trash piling up. It was so bad, Adam my roommate, was reduced to sleeping on the floor in the living room.

I threw some trash bags in his room, cleaned the cat litter (to the cat I TOLD him not to get), and walked the smelly cans of tuna OUT to the curb. I was hoping that he would catch my hint.

He didn’t.

I walked into the apartment yesterday and almost threw up from the stench. I wouldn’t even allow Rob to come with me and help pack because I was afraid of the mess I would find. That, and Rob hates tuna with a passion to end all passions.

There were FIVE, FIVE cans of rotten tuna cans scattered across the house.

FIVE.

Apparently, he couldn’t contain the mess inside his room. I mean, there is only so much trash one room can handle before spilling out into the rest of the house.

There was food CRUSTED onto dishes left in the sink, on the counter and on the stove, there was trash littered from the kitchen to the living room, and worst of all, his cat has peed in every box, on every blanket and destroyed my yarn box.

Destroyed it.

It, literally, looked like a squatter lived there.

After walking through the apartment, a sinking feeling started in the pit of my stomach.

Oh. My. Goodness.

What about the bathroom?

I didn’t even want to look.

I did. And I was disgusted.

After that, I resigned myself to packing my room and most of the house.

Here’s what my room looked like AFTER I packed:

And another view:

Did you notice that I never really finished painting my room? I ran out of paint, for one, and for two, I met Rob shortly after I started painting and then we moved into together… You know how it is.

But, thankfully, the man I got to take over my lease doesn’t like the navy and wants to repaint the room. Saves me from having to finish the room before I turn over the lease.

Here is all the crap I cleaned out of the room:

All those boxes?

Books. Hundreds and hundreds of books.

But, wait! Did you think that was it?

Granted, one or two of the tubs came from the living room, and the formal dining room table is buried somewhere in the back, but yes, one COULD say that I have too much stuff.

One could say that, but one won’t.

That means you, Rob.

Remember the Christmas tree I mentioned earlier in the post? Are there a few of you who don’t believe that I had my tree up until April 4?

The proof is in the living room.

Do you notice my yarn basket? Is it appropriate for me to tell Adam (my roommate) to untangle it? I mean, you’re looking at a good $200 worth of yarn there and I sorted each skein BEFORE I put them in the basket.

Fucking cat.

As for the kitchen, here is what some of it looked like. Notice the trash on the floor? Classssy.

No, I didn’t take a picture of the rest of the kitchen. I am too embarrassed to show you, and that says a lot. That tells you just how disgusting the kitchen is.

But, not as disgusting as this:

How can a person live like this?

The plate on his “nightstand,” the one with ketchup? THAT WAS THERE IN FEBRUARY. I don’t even think you can legally call it ketchup. Soliders in Iraq are even scared to touch it.

This is the one and only time I wish computers had Smell-o-vision. The smell, friends, the smell is horrific.

Not as horrific as this:

HOW IS IT THAT YOU DON’T NOTICE THE GRIME AND DIRT EACH TIME YOU TAKE A SHOWER?

I almost feel the need to burn the shower curtain. But, I won’t because that bitch was $50 and it’s coming home. With me.

It only took me three hours to pack what you saw in the dining room, and afterward I sent this to Adam:

“Dude. Your cat has been pissing everywhere. On my blankets, in the boxes, on my tree skirt. If Tom found out, he’d kick your ass out. The apartment is disgusting. I picked up old, rotten cans of tuna in the living room and Tom saw your room and he said it smelled and was a disaster.”

Please note that, yes, I do use punctuation in my text messages… it’s only polite.

He responded with:

“lol, k…”

THAT’S IT?

REALLY?

REALLY?

He had better start packing because the lease is solely in my name and I’m kicking his ass out and finding another roommate for the new guy.

And, yes, I am keeping my lease.

I’m going to cash flow that place. The rent is only $700 a month (+ utilities), and that is ridiculously cheap for the neighborhood and the size of the apartment (1,400 sq ft). I’m going to charge $1000 a month and pocket the rest.

Make that money, money.

Who knew?

I’m sure you are expecting a long post updating you on the events of my life over the past few months and why I started a new blog instead of updating the existing one.

While I know you are expecting it, I’m going to pass.

I could talk about me falling in love, purchasing a house, on the verge of getting engaged, getting into an accident, moving, my job, the fallout with my family, and various other interesting and fascinating facts about me, but instead, I took a picture of my cubicle and labeled items in said cubicle.

My obsession with other people’s cubicles almost surpass my obsession of looking into someone refrigerator and medicine cabinet. Almost.

It’s always interesting to me what people hang on the walls, place on the desk, etc. What is the significance and meaning behind the items someone would purposely place in their cubicles to look at every day? Is there a significance or meaning?

Here is my cubicle and the significance and meaning behind everything that is placed in said cubicle.

Fascinating, I know.

1. My CB Slanguage signs. First off, the CB is a lost form of fun communication. Don’t you wish that you could give yourself a cool name and say things like “What’s your handle good buddy?” or “Mercy… There’s a SMOKEY in a plain blue wrapper.”? I know I do. I found these signs at a garage sale a few years back, and promptly paid $1 for each of them. This past Christmas, Rob (the boyfriend) bought me one at Swank (my favorite store in the history of stores). He paid over $7. Sucker. I do not have the sign he gave me hanging, it is being displayed in my storage unit (aka my room at my house… a room I haven’t spent the night in in over two months).

2. The awesomeness that is my MAC computer with my favorite picture of Rob and I taken at the St. Paul Winter Carnival as the desktop wallpaper. If you haven’t converted from a PC to a MAC, I highly, highly recommend doing so… immediately. It. Is. Fabulous. Desktop wallpaper optional, of course.

3. Fabric in a sack. For the long-time Grace readers, they remember the infamous Mazeing Race I participated in two falls ago. One of the the tasks was to sew a quilt square. I did not have enough time to finish my quilt square so I used my chewing gum to secure the remaining pieces together. Needless to say, I did not win. However, I should have. I’m just sayin.

4. My new stack of business cards. I point this out for two reasons, 1. I was just informed that I might be unemployed in the coming months, or become a “freelance” reporter, and 2. They have spelling errors. Now, I ask you, would YOU trust a reporter who has spelling errors on THEIR business cards? Yeah. I thought as much.

5. My handy dandy wonderful white iPhone courtesy of my wonderful and handy dandy boyfriend Rob. He knew that, while I loved my black G1, I was DYING for an iPhone. He bought me one, a full month before my birthday, as a present AND added me to his contract. Good-bye T-Mobile, Hello long-term commitment. I adore it. Not only is it my iPod and constant source of entertainment, it is also a handy dandy tool to keep me informed on everyone’s life via my Facebook and Twitter applications. Not only can I keep informed on your life, I also have the WordPress application which allows me to update you, as well. I also have the Mafia Live application, which consumes my soul, but that, my friends, is besides the point.

6. Official Professional Reporter’s Notebooks and a box of pens. And, yes, the notebooks actually have “Professional Reporter’s Notebeook” printed on the cover. It makes it more official and more professional, I must admit. It makes me feel important. They are laid out, on my desk, with a mission. Over the next week, I will be heading to the five schools I cover and begin taking sports team photos for my Spring Sports Preview. Fascinating, no? Life of a maybe-unemployed Rockstar.

7. DVDs. It has come to my attention that my information “could” be lost during the server switch-r-roo at the office, and that would be devastating to me. I haven’t backed anything up In. My. Life. and now I have a lot of important files that could be lost forever if I do not start backing up files. So, after 10 DVDs (40G), all my music, video and picture files are safe and secure. Unless I lose the discs… which has been known to happen.

8. Grape Powerade Zero. I never leave home without it. I have three or four with me at all times. It is what keeps me going. It’s the only thing I drink (that doesn’t contain alcohol, mind you), and you are all aware of how important fluid consumption is to my body. I’ve tried the Mountain Berry (blech) and the Strawberry (double blech), but Grape seems to be the best fit for me. I drink so much of it, in fact, I know the price of Zero at any given store. Test me. Target = .89 (but they are on sale right now for .79), Holiday Station Stores = 1.89 (but they are on sale right now 2 for 2.50), Wal-Mart = .89, Super America = 1.69… the list goes on and on. Rob can attest to this, but I get really, really pissy when I go into Wal-Mart or Target and they are out of Grape. It’s ridiculous. I have to plan out my Powerade Zero purchases, I have a time and date schedule and should I find a store that sells it cheap and they are instock, I buy every single bottle I can get my hands on. Poor Rob, he’s so concerned about the enviroment and my pollution that he spent over an hour at work the other day looking at distributors and purchasing Grape in bulk. I love him… almost as much as I love Powerade Zero Grape.

9. This is my basket of work I’ve already completed. Notice the stack is very large. Yes, I do work. You can stop laughing at any time. I don’t think it’s funny.

10. If you think it looks like a dirty tin, you’d be right. It IS a dirty tin. I’m not sure what it’s made of or what it held before I filled it with paperclips but my guess is that it was an old dog food tin. It was passed down from one of my previous co-workers, and I will not pass it down when I leave. Because I am selfish.

11. This is a stack of paper and pictures tacked to my cubicle wall. Every editorial I write gets pinned to the wall instead of being neatly filed in a hanging folder. I like to look at them when I work and would like to believe they provide “musings”. What’s that? Are you looking closely and notice that I have a picture of half-naked boys? Well, you’d be right, but I can justify it. It’s the wrestling team’s cover of the 2008-09 season and it was gifted to me by their coach and, frankly, most of the boys are over 18. That’s gotta count for something.

12. This is a picture I took during a visit to the Como Zoo Conservatory with Rob and his mom this past winter. It’s pretty, I’ll give you that, but I keep it tacked up because it reminds me of my deep love for Rob and how he makes me laugh. When we saw the flowers, he suggested I take the picture and then “tag” him and I on Facebook. This is the only time I’ve ever remember he asking me to tag him in a photo. Normally, I do it without his consent and deal with the outcome later.

13. Fancy pen holder. Target clearance rack for $1.25. Need I say more?

14. Work I should be doing instead of typing this post. Obituraries and press releases can wait. This is news-breaking information.

15. Have you ever passed by Claire’s in the mall and your inner teenage girl begs you to go in and purchase some dangly earrings or bangles for your wrist? My inner teenage girl begged me for this sparkly, pink cell phone holder in the pretty form of a poppazon chair. I purchased it… without a second thought… obviously. I know you’re thinking ‘Why isn’t her iPhone in the chair?” It’s not because I never use it. But, there it sits regardless.

16. My work phone. With the long, tangled cord and no voicemail blinking light. Look at your phone. Is it fancy? Does it have speakerphone? Can you put people on hold instead of holding the receiver to your chest? You do? You can? Count yourself blessed, my friend. Count yourself blessed.

17. Pictures of my friends and family are a must for my cubicle. Here we have pictures of Jessica and Shelly at Girls Night back in September, Shelly, our sisters and I at the horrific roadtrip we took to see a band in Iowa, my Colorado roadtrip, pictures of me from the state fair that I attended with Marc, and various family pictures that make me smile.

18. The Spongebob cartoon? I pulled it off the umbrella I bought Nanna and every time I look at it, I smile. There is also a newpaper comic that I lovinly cut out of the Star Tribune a while back featuring a Led Zeppelin joke, and you know how much I love LZ. The blank spaces were from pictures that were taken down and ripped up for reasons I won’t get into now.

19. Work folders I do not use. I don’t know why I don’t take it down, but there it hangs unused and unloved.

20. Instead of using a CD folder, I hang all my important CDs on thumbtacks that are BARELY hanging to the cubicle wall. Do you get my DVD joke from above now? Figured you would.

Well, that’s it for now. I’ll update soon… perhaps even as early as tomorrow.

Oh, on the off chance you want to comment, I ask, “What do you have in your cubicle?”