This morning, I decided to be daring and venture up into the attic. I've never been in my attic, so imagine my surprise when my mother told me it's practically another finished room.
So, I dropped the little door from the ceiling and a ladder popped down. I climbed the ladder, almost fearful of attic/spaghetti monsters. Wouldn't you know...mom was right. There's a floor, light switch, electrical outlets, and one ginormous attic fan. Not to mention a shit ton of room for extra storage, or a place for my brother to stay in the event his house is foreclosed upon. The threat has loomed twice now within the past 12 months, so it is a possibility.
My little adventure made me think of that scene from National Lampoons Christmas Vacation where Clark is in the attic watching old movies. A classic!! Thankfully, I didn't fall from the ceiling.
I'm currently waiting for the carpet shampoo people to get here...which should be in about an hour. The carpets are gross, and I wanted to wait to have them cleaned until I was moved in and settled.
What kind of friend wimps out of stopping by to visit citing "I'm tired" and "You're sick"...only to go out to Happy Hour and karaoke later that night? Too tired to check on a sick friend, but not so tired to go out for Long Island Ice Tea and get felt up by your coworkers.
I don't know why I even bother anymore.
I'll just sit here and be mad, because it's a lot easier than admitting your feelings are hurt.