But now the housing situation is really complicated.

I haven't been tracking the roommate saga here, so I'll start with a summary:
- A few months ago, I found out that I'd been assigned to a 2br apartment with one roommate. I was a bit surprised, since I'd been in a studio last year.
- The welcome packets went out in July, and prospective-roommate and I friended eachother on Faceborg. She had some very specific group affiliations about her parents being Palestinian refugees. For a while I was left wondering whether she also had a preexisting grudge, which would've been really akward. She didn't respond to my initial or follow-up "hey, we'll be living together and should sort this out first" e-mails, which didn't help.
- In early August, I finally managed to catch her via IM. It turned out that she's a reasonable person. Not going to throw parties with dozens of people. Observing halal, so I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning bacon grease off the stove. Majoring in political science because she wants to work on the Israel/Palestine peace process. (Still also a self-described libertarian conservative, but she strikes me as unlikely to be dogmatic about it.)
- Then her parents heard that this set of campus apartments was the "party dorm" and promptly transferred her to a different residence hall. I figured that I had a new mystery roommate to look forwards to, so I sent an e-mail to one of the residence administrators, reminding them that I needed a roommate who kept kosher or halal, or was at least vegetarian, and asking whether I had one. No response.

That brings us to today... I arrived to find that the computer systems claim I belong in a completely different apartment than the one I was originally assigned to, and that this new apartment is supposed to house four people in two bedrooms. (If so, that would be counter to the disability accommodation letter in my file. I'm supposed to have a single-occupancy bedroom so that I can study without distractions.) The apartment turns out to be furnished for four people, which is further cause for concern. One other person has checked in, but when I finally got to the room around midnight, she said something about wanting to switch to a different apartment. So now I have no idea what's going on, at all.

The nice people at the front desk told me that I could expect someone from ResLife with the ability to figure out what happened and the authority to fix it to be around from 6a onwards. I suppose I should figure out what I would like the results of speaking to them to be. But right now I'm tired, I ache all over, and I can't seem to fall asleep. Not exactly a good state for planning.
403: Red-ink fail stamp. (FAIL)
( Jul. 26th, 2009 04:45 am)
I thought that I would wash all of my laundry tonight/this morning and pack it all away clean. Well, not so much. I found out the hard way that while there are plenty of functional washing machines, there isn't a single working dryer in the entire apartment complex. Because I'm moving the last load of boxes today, I don't have time to hang it around in the apartment to dry. And after trying three different dryers each... the clothes kinda smell musty and need to be washed again. *sigh*

I hope my folks are in a good mood in the morning.
403: Reduce - Reuse - Reanimate (Reduce - Reuse - Reanimate)
( Jul. 15th, 2009 07:05 pm)
I haven't been feeling alive until well after sunset, this past week. During the day, it's painfully bright outside. Enough so that the apartment is well-lit with the blinds closed and the lights off. (I can read comfortably under those conditions until an hour or so before sunset, when it's necessary to open the blinds and/or turn on the lights.) Inside, the temperature is merely uncomfortable, in spite of the full efforts of the building's arthritic central air system. Outside, it's like stepping into an oven. I've already desert adapted as much as humans are capable of, and still the amount that I sweat leaves me constantly thirsty and craving salt.

This is sapping both my will and ability to do much of anything. That's kind've a problem since I have only two weeks left until I'll be living out of a suitcase.

Someday, I must find out what my folks liked about this place when they decided to move here. 'cause I'm not seeing it.
Dear maintenance,

Fuck you very much for the lack of advance warning.

I had been soundly asleep, and now I'm going to try for that ideal again. (Edit: Body tells me that it's awake now. Feh.)

No love,
- Me
.

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403: Listen to the song of the paper cranes... (Default)
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