Saturday, January 7

Firefoxed

My web-surfing experience today has been all sorts of unexpected fun, since I finally installed Firefox (at work, at least) like all the cool kids. I am totally digging the tabs, and I've organized all my bookmarks into neat little categories and everything. I might, just might, install this on the ol' Mac at home. But I do have an emotional (and aesthetic: mmm, metal) attachment to Safari that I'm not sure I'm ready to test. We'll see.

Turns out I got the apartment just in time. The day after I gave my deposit check to Jim, the maintenance/leasing guy, he got another offer for a deposit on the unit. So I barely squeaked in there. I've set a move-in date of Jan. 29, which will give Jim plenty of time to do some repair work on the wall where the air conditioner leaked and stained the plaster. He's also got to install a new disposal in the kitchen sink. But that should be about it. The former tenant left the place in really good shape, from what I can tell. Jim said he hadn't even had the place cleaned yet when I looked at it, and it looked very clean to me (that's not saying a lot, I know).

One little sliver of badness may have embedded itself into the deal, though. After calling to tell me I got the apartment, Jim said, "I don't know if I told you this yet or not (I've shown so many apartments), but the landlord's son is thinking about raising the rates because of higher property taxes." So I would be locked into the current rate (good) for my lease term (I'm going to go with six months, methinks, in case I hate it like I hated Lynnfield Place), but if I wanted to renew, I'd have to renew under the new rates (bad). A major reason why I'm getting this smaller apartment is so I can save money, so I'm not sure, if they jack it up a whole bunch, what I'll do. But we'll stumble blindly across that bridge when we get there.

Phil's streak of shit luck culminated this week in a gnarly dog bite to the chin, which sent him to the doctor's office for many, many hours of waiting, just to be given butterfly strips and antibiotics and a tetanus shot. I told him that now all he needs to look like a bad motherfucker is an eye patch. He's so scratched and bruised from the hours of restraining furry beasts being poked and prodded with cold metal objects.

Anyway, Phil might not appreciate me talking about him as if he's not reading this right now. If he wanted you to know all about his life's little problems, he would update his blog every now and again. So I'll can it already and leave you with this, the funniest shit I've seen all day. (Link via Defamer)

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