So far, I've learned two things from moving up here. First, people are crazy everywhere you go. Second, there are as many ups and downs in life as there are on this silly mountain road I live on.
Last night, Nate and I went to his old place to fetch the last few things he left there. Mainly, it was this monster of a desk/dresser that with all my strength I couldn't even budge. Thankfully, Nate's friend Pat came to help and we found an illegal place to dump it. But first, we had to confront his lunatic landlady to get his deposit back. We left the tiny mudroom that he rented from her in the same shape he found it so we felt the deposit should be returned. She felt that since she hadn't yet been able to find a new renter, she should keep it. Sorry lady, not our problem. Cough it up. First, let me paint a little picture of this woman for you....
Though wholly American, this crazybag decided that she wanted to completely emerge herself in the Irish culture, so she had her name officially changed to something Irish-sounding. She even tries to talk with an accent sometimes. She was artificially laden with child, so she claims, and must have picked the Irish popsicle because the kid has bright red hair and she named him Fear. Appropriate, though, because I am very, very afraid for that child. So, imagine the smallest little house you can and now cram it with so much crap you have to clear a path to walk through it. Clothes, dishes, papers... use your imagination. The kid would get lost in it if she ever, ever put him down. She promised to hook up a router so Nate could have internet at the house and never did because she claimed Nate never offered to hold her toddler so she could have time to do it. She also yelled at Nate because he didn't take out her trash and compost for her promptly enough. Or clean her house. This, of course, a house that Nate only ventured in to use the bathroom.
So last night we were there, trying to clean the room up. We were wiping down the floors and walls with Lysol wipes. Crazybat came in and told us to please not use those wipes in her house because she didn't want the baby breathing it in. Nevermind that you can't see the floor in her house for all the crap. Lysol wipes, that's what's going to harm her child. Nate says she uses Lysol to clean her floors.
After we were cleaned out and loaded up, we went in to get the deposit. And that's when the lunacy really sunk to a new level. She and Nate went back and forth about what they had each agreed to in some misunderstood conversation. Nate had, apparently, said that if he ended up staying there into December she could keep the deposit. He did not, obviously, stay into December. He gave her a month and a half notice to find a new renter. It's not our fault that she's insane and nobody wants to live in her madhouse. Give us back the deposit you nutcase! During this conversation, as we stood in the doorway and she sat on the floor, she steadily whipped her boob out and thrust her gross nipple in the kid's mouth. He clearly didn't want it, but every couple of minutes she'd yank her flabby sack back out and shove it in his poor little face. She was trying to make us feel uncomfortable. Interesting tactic Basketcase but no good. We stood our ground. I glared at her menacingly.
Needless to say, we left without the money. Only to return to our new place where our new landlady was pissed because Nate's dog barks continuously when we're not home. And we still owe her half of the deposit. I just can't see how renting is a better option than owning. I'd rather be flat broke in my own place. As it is, I'm flat broke wherever we live.
So those are some of the valleys right now. But there are peaks! Being away from Nate was miserable and now that is gone away. We still don't know for sure what our future holds or what we want it to hold even. But for now, we're together and that's good enough. And as for everything else, as Nate says, "We will get it all figured out." It's the "we" in that sentence that is my mountaintop.
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