Stuff and Things part 1: Moving on Up

Sometimes, life decides to chuckle mockingly at your well laid plans and then alter them. It happens to some people more than others. It happens to me quite a lot.

For instance, the plan today was to venture forth from the relative discomfort of my sweltering apartment, into the soggy heat of the outside world. I was supposed to go take a test so that I could obtain a drivers permit-- because I've finally decided that I should probably learn how to drive like a big boy-- and then go the the sweet, blissfully air conditioned gym to break out in a sweat that doesn't involve the sun trying its best to convert me into a California Raisin.

"We ain't pretty, but we make bank."

Instead, I'm sitting in front of the computer and the only form of exercise I'm doing is lifting a slice of pizza from the plate and into my mouth gullet. My belly hangs over the top of my sweatpants, distended as if I had swallowed a child. The fan sits next to me, blowing enough hot air in my face to make me believe it's going into politics.

I did try to accomplish the relatively simple goals I had set out to do. I truly did. But like the old saying goes: I suck at life and fail at everything.

But hey, it doesn't have to be a total lose, right? If my efforts were going to be foiled by bad timing and poor luck, I could try to salvage it. Maybe I could sit down and write, an activity I've neglected for a couple of months now.

In typical Darren fashion, things have been...interesting. And by that, I mean a bunch of stressful, tiring stuff  came up and threatened to bury me alive. I'll tackle those delightful slices of heavenly goodness one at a time. So let's start with one of the biggies.

The city of Everett and I have parted ways. As much as I enjoyed my stay in that festering heap of broken dreams, I felt that our relationship wasn't working out. Everett is a needy, lying bitch who did its best to drain me of life and suck my soul out of my body. I'd compare it to a dementor, but that would be unjustifiably mean; at least the dementors don't lie about their intentions of making out with you and then eating your vital essence.

"Wanna make out?"

It had been my intention of dropping Everett and moving on with my life in April, when the lease was up. However, as with today, Life saw my plan, let out a hearty bellow of a laugh, and promptly shoved me in a bush like the schoolyard bully he/she is. I found myself without the savings to fund a move, and my roommate was in the process of searching for a house to buy. Thus we collectively decided to extend our stay in the welcoming embrace of Everett, city of shit-holes and ass-hats.

My escape finally commenced a couple of weeks ago. I pack my stuff, bid Everett a jovial FUCK YOU, and moved on from that pusing sore of a city, saying goodbye to the petty crime, tacky graffiti, and moronic people.

My new apartment is in Bothell. So far, the neighborhood is a sweet balm to my ravaged nerves. No longer do I have to stress out about some lowlife stealing my stuff in broad daylight. Gone are the fascinating conversations detailing the best methods of selling meth held between residents of my former apartment complex. And I would be remiss if I didn't include the disgusting spectacle of two morbidly obese residents trying desperately to fuck each other senseless in the courtyard.

Long story short-- too late, I know-- I am positively jubilant at my long awaited escape from what I now affectionately refer to as the Comcast of cities.