I Can't (not) Get No Satisfaction

I just came back from a truly perfect date. 

First we went to get ice cream, and then we went to see a movie where no one else was in the theatre (raises eyebrows suggestively). After the movie we strolled along the pier and when a group of homeless men were yelling obscene words at me he gave them all the stink eye. As the sun went down, we walked along the beach and spotted several dolphins not too far off and in a less fortunate turn of events we found a dead seal. We ended up at the lighthouse where we sat and looked out on the horizon for half an hour. It was the most romantic day I've ever experienced. 

Who is this most mysterious person I went on a date with you ask? The answer is...me. Yes that's right folks, I went to get ice cream by myself, went to a movie by myself and laughed to myself whenever something funny happened on screen. I walked along the pier and scowled at rude homeless men, scampered along the beach oohing and aaahing to myself about the playful dolphins, jabbed a dead seal with a stick to make sure it was in fact dead, and then sat in contemplation on the rocks by a lighthouse by myself. And it was, STILL, the most romantic day I've ever had. 

No one is in Santa Cruz yet so I've had to become my own best friend. It sounds kind of sad, and sometimes it is, but today was an example of how much a person can get out of making a date with themselves. It sure beats the last couple of days anyway, which was basically spent practicing my future life as a crazy cat-lady. I found the outdoorsy cat that we're supposed to take care of. We cuddle together while I read books until it gets bored of me and wants to go back outside. It turns out the first cat that Samantha and I found was most definitely not the cat we were supposed to take care of because that cat was all scabby and unfriendly even though I forced it come inside and eat anyway. So now, I guess, as the newly formed cat-lady, I force feral cats to come live with me so I don't have to form friendships with actual humans. The mice don't even bother me anymore. Mainly because I think they died somewhere in between the walls, but still.

I think I shall beach the week away until people come back. My goal is to look as leathery as Donatella Versace by the time I'm 25.

I Don't Want to Die Here

       So it’s night two in my new haunted Santa Cruz home. Me, Rod, Stephanie, and our new roomie, who we have yet to meet, are living on the main floor of the house, three people will be living below us, and four people above us. At this point, however, it’s just me living in this giant creaking house alone with no one above or below me. What I find fascinating about the house is how by day it looks like the perfect country home, complete with apple trees, blackberry bushes, a porch, and view of the forest, but by night the house is something from a Tim Burton movie. “Beetlejuice” is all fun and games when you’re just watching, but if you were actually living in a house where your staircase handrail turned into a snake I’m sure that would be no laughing matter.

Just half an hour ago I was watching Arrested Development and trying to laugh loudly because everyone knows that ghosts don’t bother you when you’re exuding joy, when all of a sudden I saw a movement from the crack beneath my bedroom door. My heart stopped for a moment, I took off my headphones, and I heard scraping coming from the hallway. I waited until my heart began beating again and then with more willpower than those fat people on Dance Your Ass Off I opened my bedroom door, turned on the light and saw…nothing. I checked the whole main floor, double-checking the locks on the doors, and once I was satisfied I went back into my room. About 10 minutes later, out of the corner of my eye I see a shadowy movement by the door again and I quickly look up in time to see a mouse crossing my room. There was a millisecond where the mouse looked me in the eye and I swear at the same time we both thought “Oh Shit!”, but then the mouse in all it’s jittery glory ran back under the door. On the one hand it’s kind of nice to know that I’m not, in fact, the only one living in the house, but on the other hand I swear to God if that thing crawls on my face or body in the middle of the night I will burn this motha’ down! I’ve plugged up the crack beneath my door with some of my clothes I have yet to put away so now it can’t get into my room. Well, that, or I’ve just locked in all the other mice that are chilling in my room.

The first night I was here, there was a raging battle between a kajillion spiders and myself. I never kill spiders just in case one day I find a giant peach and I crawl into it and there’s an animated version of the spider I decided not kill and it spares my life because I spared its life. Also I don’t like to kill things that are too juicy. Anyway, so I spent an hour using a broom to sweep, swat, and swindle (I needed another s-word) spiders out of their nooks and crannies and out to the front deck. And the creature war began even before that. Earlier that day I was wandering through the backyard, admiring the apple trees, and kumquat tree, when I discovered a delightful little blackberry bush. Before my eyes could fully focus on what lay before me, my greedy little fingers had already plucked a juicy berry. And as I raised the berry to my lips I realized that my hand was COVERED in ants and gnats and other mysterious deviants. My eyes refocused and I could see that the bush looked like it was pulsating due to the enormous amount of insects crawling over leaves, branches, and berries. Needless to say the bush and I are no longer on plucking terms.

So I guess the house isn’t really in need of an exorcism so much as it’s in need of an exterminator. Maybe I’ll get the worst of both worlds and be haunted by ghost rats later tonight. Here’s hoping!