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The Weird Chick

Let’s Get Personal

September 15th,2015


My poor, abandoned site. I have been moving, as I am sure you know since there is that little message all the way down there saying so. Sold my townhouse and am in the process of moving into my grandmother’s house (my avó), which is taking approximately 73454534x longer than the husbear and I expected. See, he is deathly allergic to cats and, almost five years ago when my beloved childhood dog passed away, my dad decided it would be a good idea to get me a cat to soothe the pain. I should clarify that my dad and I lived with his parents from when I was thirteen until I was twenty (although he moved in immediately after he and my mom divorced, when I was eleven), at which point we left because neither of us could handle his dad anymore (my grandfather has had a bad case of raging asshole since forever). We bought a townhouse together, because my dad desperately did not want to rent, but could not afford a home on his own. Anyway, yeah, back to the cat. My dad thought it would be a good idea to get me a cat. Problem being, of his three children, I am the only one who does not suffer from kitty allergies. I may have been the only one who lived with him, but my brother and sister would come over on weekends, and suffer for her cuteness.

When we left my avó’s house, we left my cat behind (her name is Schrödinger Comma-Erwin, by the way) so that my siblings could come visit us and still be able to breathe. Also, avó loved Schrö (whom she called “Shin-ah” because saying Schrödinger with a Portuguese accent is difficult), and she needed at least one friendly face when she lived with a husband who scowled 24/7. About six months after we got Schrödinger, the husbear and I started dating. Due to the aforementioned Mr Grumpypants, I never brought him to my house. Also, you know, he is deathly allergic to cats. After my dad and I moved, I had him over all the time.

Earlier this year, in February, I had the privilege of being in a car crash. Let me tell you, it is a lot of fun when someone runs a red light at 5am on a freezing cold day and slams right into your headlight, spins around, and slams right into your side door and a light post at the same time. It was the most exciting day of my life. As you might know, I was working as a baker until very recently. This is why I no longer work as a baker. See, this surprises a lot of people, but baking professionally is a difficult job. There is a ton of heavy lifting and it is go-go-go all night, and there is no time to take a break (labour laws be damned). The crash was not the worst, and I feel I am doing just fine, but it has left me with chronic back pain that gets bad if I have to stand for an extended period of time, or do much heavy lifting. This, on top of the monotony I was starting to suffer at the job, led me to decide I was better off leaving.

I was off on leave from work, collecting income-replacement cheques from my insurance company because I could not do my job (the pain was much, much worse a few months ago; I could hardly move), and I felt like a total loser, just collecting money for nothing. So I decided to do something good with the time I had off, and I applied to college. I dropped out of high school when I was eighteen; I was really depressed and had fallen very far behind in school, and I am not the biggest fan of the public school system in the first place (I will save you that rant, because almost nobody ever wants to hear it). I live in Canada, and here, what you Americans call “community college” we just call “college”, I think. We just use “university” for the super-expensive fancy-pants option. Anyway, it is surprisingly easy to get into college, since I got in without having to graduate high school. All you have to do is write a test, and it is not a difficult test.

With me going back to school, and my now-ex-roommate best friend and her boyfriend eager to get a place just for the two of them, it seemed to be a good time to sell the old townhouse (my dad had already left to go live in the country with his long-time girlfriend, whom I call my stepmom because it’s been thirteen freaking years already, daddy!).

I have been out of school for six years (seven if you don’t count the year I spent in alternative public school, which I don’t because while that place was actually really nice, it was part-time), and adjusting is an awkward process for me. I do not do well in crowds, and I do not do well with people I don’t know. I am extremely socially awkward (apparently, my doctor says, I have social anxiety). Out of fear of becoming overwhelmed and spiraling through the same feelings that caused me to drop out of school in the first place, the husbear and I decided that I should work part time, and minimally at that. The problem with that is, how would we find a place where we could afford to live?

Enter avó. I love my vovó. She is the sweetest woman, and she adores me for some reason. My grandfather has been in a nursing home for the past year or two (finally; on top of being a bad person, he now has pretty bad Alzheimer’s and my poor avó just could not take care of him), so my avó asked if the husbear and I would move in with her. She gives us a place to live for next to nothing, I provide her with chauffeuring services to and from the grocery store, and my company (apparently that is a good thing).

As I mentioned way up there, though, the husbear is deathly allergic to cats. We have spent the past month trying to find a new home for my poor kitty (and I feel just terrible about it; I have a strong moral opposition to giving away animals and I am a complete hypocrite right now), but we finally found somewhere good for her, with people I have known for years and with whom I can be in regular contact, so I know she is doing well. I refused to take her to a shelter, because we got her from one and that would just be too wrong and I could not be that hypocritical. We moved out of the townhouse in mid-August, and Schrö just found her new home on Saturday. We have been staying at my inlaws house in the meantime (who have been wonderful), but my dog, Growlithe has been with my avó (and damn do I miss my dog, even though I go see him every day), waiting for me and his daddy to join him. Now that kitty has her new home, the house has to air out for a couple of weeks.

I started college last Tuesday, and so far it is much better than high school. Words cannot describe my distaste for my high school experience. Every time someone says “they’re the best four years of your life!” I have to suppress my gag reflex (by the way, if you’re ever talking to a depressed teenager who hates school, telling her that this is the highlight of her life is a good way to send her into an even worse depression) because otherwise, there is going to be vomit everywhere. I’m studying computer programming, and my goal is straight-As. I kind of have something to prove to myself, being a drop out and all. I think I can do it.

So if you’re wondering why this site has been neglected, it’s because my life got flipped-turned upside down. When I get settled into my avó’s house, one of the first things I am going to do is put up her recipe for Portuguese oven-roasted potatoes, because those things are just amazing. Seriously. Until then, I am living off of takeout and missing my kitchen.

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