Joke’s On Me

While sitting here banging my head on the desk, trying to decide whether it would be more therapeutic to laugh or to cry, I just realized something.

My life?  Is a joke.  I’m not anywhere near so bad off that I deserve pity – I have a roof over my head, a (frequently disgruntling) career path that pays me just enough to survive, a husband (albeit in another state), wonderful friends, etc.  On paper, my life is great!

But then these little things happen, and just pile up one on top of another.  And really, who has so many little disastrous things?  It’s just too much!

And that’s when I realized my life must really be a joke, and I am here for the comedic relief of everyone else.  Are there cameras following me everywhere I go, a la The Truman Show?  These things surely must be staged to provide excellent “reality” television for everyone out there to see how I react.  Will she have a breakdown?!  Will she break plates out of frustration?  Oh, she handled that rationally.  Let’s throw something else at her to see what happens!  Are you all watching me on some streaming internet site from work?  Did you just see me wave at you?  (Sorry for the unwashed messy hair and way-too-big pajamas; I’ve been sick.  Though I’m sure you must know that based on the number of times you’ve seen me blow my nose the past few days.)

Several weeks ago, it all started when I found out I was going to have to move out of the wonderful condo I have been renting the past three years.  Back in March, I contacted the owner and asked if she would be amenable to doing a shorter-term lease, since I am hoping to not need a full year to finish my Ph.D. (unrealistic wishful thinking on my behalf).  She said yes, it was fine, and we set a date to sign my new, short term, renewable lease.  I emailed back and forth to confirm all questions I had – that I would not be asked to sign a full year lease at any point; that she would not attempt to find another tenant until I was done; etc.  Over and over she reassured me that the place was mine as long as I needed it, and she would never rope me into a full year lease.

The day before we were supposed to sign the lease, she emails me, informing me that she changed her mind, and I would be signing a 3-month lease followed by a year-long lease.  She didn’t care what she had said previously, this was how it is and I could take it or leave it. 

So, I’m leaving it.  I had one month to do a move that I was not expecting to do, and it has frayed my every last nerve.  There are very, very few places that will allow you to do short term or month-to-month that are not excruciatingly expensive, so I am moving into an apartment with a roommate.  Yes, it’s a major step downward, and now my husband and I are going to have NOWHERE to ourselves since I will be living with someone, but let’s save that letdown for another day, shall we?

So, I found somewhere to live.  I’m not happy about it, I’m not looking forward to it, but I also know that I adapt extremely well, so I am sure it will all work out, even if I feel like I am regressing in life.  I get to have an AMAZING! WONDERFUL! EXCITING! birthday this weekend spent moving one-fourth of my belongings to my new place, and three-fourths of my belongings into storage in Philadelphia.  (I’ll spare you the details about how despite reserving the move-out date weeks ago, and paying my $400 move-out fee, the management company double booked, and now some girl is calling me up screaming at me all the time because she needs to park her truck in the spot I reserved for my move-out.)  I’ve been quite sick the past two days, which have put a huge damper on my packing efforts.  Yesterday, I spent all afternoon sleeping on the couch, and today I was feeling a bit better, but opted to stay home from lab again so as to be able to catch up on some additional sleep and do some more packing.

Since my place is a disaster, I’m trying to do the best to separate what is going to Philly versus what is staying with me in DC.  Things to Philly are stashed in the living room, whereas things staying with me have been packed in boxes and stored in my extremely large (for inner city living standards) bathroom.

The bathroom which flooded this morning.

The very same bathroom which flooded two months ago, and looked like this 10 minutes AFTER the water was shut down (it was like Niagara Falls before they turned the water off):

Now, imagine that much water (perhaps a bit more), but gushing from my toilet instead.  And now, imagine all my packed boxes with the belongings I planned on keeping with me in DC soaking up all that toilet water.

Oh, but wait.  Certainly you already knew all this, because you were watching it unfold.  My life?  Is a joke.