Please forgive the lack of regular postings for the past couple of weeks; my life has been in a state of upheaval, to put it lightly. To keep you abreast of what's been going on, I'll give you the down and dirty.
First off, Nathan and I broke up, which was apparently a more significant blow to me than to him, and is, in fact, the second time I was prepared to commit to something bigger than a relationship where we live apart and see each other a few times a week, but the dude was not wanting to be in a relationship. At least with the one before Nate he seemed genuinely sad and didn't come off as arrogant or speak to me like a child.
DISCLAIMER: The second part is the story as I remember it. I have been wrong before, but I have some reasons (unposted) as to thinking that I'm more right than wrong in this situation.
Second off, I have been battling some rather unusual apartment circumstances. On August 20 (or very close to that date), I received an offer from close family friend, Sarah Brown, to move into her beautiful apartment in Greenfield. Despite my lack of lease, the mouse "pandemic," the communal bathroom, and the lack of sun that comes from living in a basement, I was somewhat hesitant to take it, because I genuinely like(d) my Montague landlords. But ultimately the deal was too good to pass up, so I informed my landlord, Tim, that I would be moving out in mid-September.
"The end of September?" he had requested, hoping for some time to find a tenant, and I obliged. Besides which, it seemed that I would then have a nice, leisurely move.
Because New Girl wanted to be into the apartment as close as possible to GCC's starting, Tim informed me a few days later (August 27th or so) that she would be living in the upstairs guest room. That meant that we would be sharing a bathroom, which I was not thrilled about, but what the hey. And, in my opinion, my obliging nature went well beyond the necessary because, even as I said the following, I felt my hands move to cover my mouth and stop the words from pouring out, "If she needs to," I said, "she can store some of her boxes downstairs while I'm moving out."
Of course, I'm a big fucking mess, so I just start crying, and Tim rubs my back, which just makes me tense up and want to lunge at his jugular.
Dave the Property Guy is generous enough to offer out an apartment he has, but he wants first and last in a place I may stay in only for two weeks. Plus it's tiny, not the apartment I wanted, I know I'm whining, but dammit, seriously, what the fuck?
My aunt Anne generously offered me up a room in her house, though I feel I've infiltrated perhaps slightly too much. However, the rent is good, and I'm completely able to do chores and maybe tie up some loose ends that she hasn't been able to get to.
Over labor day weekend, and on the Wednesday and Thursday I took off from work for devastational reasons, I moved, resulting in the heaviest things having to be moved last and in Monday's downpour. After deciding what I can live with out for two weeks, two months, however long, I moved the rest of my stuff in a storage facility and my uncle's basement, where very fittingly I found a dead mouse.