As much as the rain sometimes depresses me, it’s rather soothing.  I can hear the thunder rumbling in the distance, and smell the rain in the air when I walk outside.  It gives me an excuse to stay indoors, and although it’s Florida and the temp outside is over 90 degrees, I can’t help but feel a little cozy.  There’s a pie in the oven - strawberry rhubarb - and the whole house smells heavenly. 

It’s been a wonderfully lazy day….the house is clean, and I’m catching up with schoolwork….”catching up” here means half-listening to my finance lecture (gotta love web replay, courtesy of the Warrington College of Business) while the other half of me blog-stalks and emails….so shameful, I know…God only knows what I’m going to to do when I’m done with school and actually have to go back to the real world

Boy oh boy, am I thankful for these individuals.  After two days of roasting in my apartment, one of the maintenance guys came and fixed that wonderful invention we call AC. 

My compressor crapped out on Saturday at about 5 pm (why do these things always break on the weekends???), and the temp got to 90 degrees during the night.  It crawled up to 93 on Sunday.  I couldn’t even use my laptop - it overheated and shut off. 

A tech came over at about 11 pm on Saturday night, but couldn’t do anything because he didn’t have the necessary parts to fix it…so we suffered until I went to the leasing office on Sunday afternoon, begging for some sort of reprieve from the inferno.  I complain to the staff member and get a chirpy “Oh, the tech should have brought a portable unit to you - I don’t know why he didn’t!”  We fixed it, though  - about two hours later, I had a very noisy but wonderfully chilly mini air conditioner parked in my living room. 

The poor little guy wasn’t quite equipped to cool the whole house though, so I closed off the bedrooms and camped out on the couch last night - ouch on the back.  After that, and after sleeping in a coating of sweat on Saturday night, I am ready for a good night’s rest, and am a LOT more of appreciative of the maintenance staff.

That was the burning question on my mind this morning, as I packed my female Great Dane into the car and headed to the vet’s office to have her goodies removed.  My heart felt heavy with guilt - I knew I’d be depriving her of the chance at motherhood, and that I’d be closing off her prestigious bloodline (she comes from five generations of champions) permanently.  

I thought about what all the PETA people/animal fanatics might say - “It’s healthier for them,” “Stop breeding - there are enough homeless animals in the world that we don’t need to breed anymore.”   And then I thought about what was in my own heart, and I couldn’t go through with it. 

My father helped sway my opinion by reasoning that the surgery is permanent (duh) and that I might want a pup out of her to have in place when it’s her time to depart this world and move on to doggie heaven.  She’s a terrific dog, and she’d make a great mother. 

Then again, I have my doubts about her intelligence.  Sometime last night she managed to get stuck in the closet - I have two cats whose food and litter box Greta is always invading, so I rigged a closet door with a piece of shoestring on the knob that I secure to a hook on the doorframe, so that only the cats should be able to squeeze through.  Greta managed to push her huge body through the narrow gap, but couldn’t get back out, so at 5:30 this morning, I hear the closet door rattling, and her growling inside!!  Ah well, I guess we’re all entitled to our “Here’s Your Sign” moments

Here I sit, blogging, while my marketing notes beside me say, “Theresa, you know you’ve got an exam tonight…why aren’t you studying?” 

A part of me rationalizes - “Oh, you’ve studied hard - go ahead and treat yourself to a break!” 

A “break” was SUPPOSED to consist of blog-stalking for 15 minutes…now it’s turning into 30 minutes of aimlessly wandering the aisles of the internet…it’s hard to feel guilty though…if God didn’t intend for us to surf the web, he wouldn’t have made it so much fun

Yes, I am one of those people.  I was disgusted from the get-go to learn about people needing financial help to fix situations they never should have put themselves into.  Now I’m not only disgusted - I’m starting to take the bail-out personally. 

I am sure that many of you have heard of pet rent - a $10 to $25 a month fee for pets living in your apartment.  I am soooo annoyed by this concept.  I’ve looked it up, and sadly, it seems legal, but I recently found out, much to my chagrin, that it doesn’t even cover damages that your pet incurs.  It’s just a fee charged for the privilege of having the pet.  If your pet does anything specific - like my cats, who have broken a few of the slats on my mini-blinds, you are legally responsible for fixing it yourself - pet rent doesn’t cover it. 

I understand that pets cause damage.  But isn’t that what the $200-$300 security deposit is for?  And I’m not talking about the regular security deposit, I’m talking about the one that you actually pay FOR the pets.  For God’s sake, that alone is $150 to $200 - why doesn’t that cover a carpet steam cleaning and painting of the apartment? 

And what about children?  They cause damage, too!  You don’t hear about parents being charged rent for their offspring. 

I came across a discussion board related to the topic, and was frustrated at some of the snooty comments - comments like “If You don’t like the terms, then don’t move in.” 

Since the discussion board was closed for comments, here is my side of the story to all of you.  After eight years in the military, I moved to Gainesville to continue my education.  I had my heart set on buying a house, because I want to own my own little piece of the world, and because I was certain that my husband and I - who is also active duty -  can afford it.  I’m an E-5, he’s an E-6; we’re not rich, but we do okay. 

After we looked at about 20 houses, we realized that we were going to have to pack it in and sign yet another lease.  We were approved for up to $180,000,  but we soon found out that that doesn’t get you much in G-ville.  The one decent place we looked at was at the absolute top of our budget - $179,800 - and it was only 2/2, and a little over 1000 square feet.  As much as I liked the idea of having to eat Ramen Noodles every day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we moved on.  Or we moved downhill, I should say. 

Every other property from then on either needed lots of TLC or was in a bad neighborhood.  I’m a student, so I knew I wasn’t going to have a lot of time to spend on repairs or upgrades, and since hubby is gone a lot, I didn’t want to worry about my safety all the time. 

So, we bit the bullet and agreed, once again, to live on someone else’s property, on their terms, at their prices.  Pet rent was still relatively new, and the leasing office was so nice about it (they gave us a discount), that we didn’t get too upset at having to pay $30 a month for our dog and two cats.  “It’s only temporary - we won’t be living here forever,” I thought.  And we won’t - I should be able to graduate in a year or so, then get the hell out of this unfriendly college town.  But finding out that I’ll have to pay for the mini-blinds myself almost sent me over the edge.  I’m paying all of this money every month, and it doesn’t do a thing for me. 

I do realize that I don’t have to have pets, but I am tired of people greedily reaching into my pockets.  I was responsible and didn’t take on a mortgage that I knew I couldn’t afford, but I feel like I’m getting the short end of the stick anyways  - now those people who weren’t so responsible are looking at getting help from other taxpayers - INCLUDING ME!!!!!!!!  AND, I’m paying all of this money for PET RENT!!!!!!!!!  It’s so STUPID!!!!!!!!!!

To all of who think things like “If you don’t like the terms, then don’t move in”  - sometimes it’s not that simple.  I didn’t have much of a choice - but I SHOULD have had one.  My husband and I have over two decades of military service between us, we’ve got decent credit, and we make decent money - we shouldn’t had to have “moved in,” because we DIDN’T like the terms.  My point is that sometimes you don’t know the whole story - you don’t know why someone may have to live in an apartment.  And, people shouldn’t be punished checkbook-wise for wanting to have a pet or two - there are much worse things in life that one could do.

…that I have received no blog feedback in over a month :(  I know that people are reading my posts, because the counter goes up every day.  But, I don’t write just to write.  I value your opinions, and enjoy reading your comments. 

I read on someone else’s blog a while ago - couldn’t tell you whose - that writing and receiving no comments is like giving a speech to a room full of people, and getting complete silence at the end of the speech. 

Have I become boring?  Am I not covering comment-worthy topics?  Alright, I’ll admit - tooth paint isn’t interesting, but without feedback, I can’t improve, so help me out, fellow bloggers!

“I want my face to be infallibly carved with laugh lines when I’m old and gray, to reveal the happiness I’ve lived to know.  At seventeen, this is my life’s greatest drive.  And I hope it never changes.” –Anonymous

I saw this on Postsecret this week, and HAD to share.  I LOVE this person’s philosophy, and I love even more that they feel this way at just 17 years old.  I firmly believe that getting old is a privilege, and look forward to gray hair and wrinkles - they are badges of life experience, not something we should stave off with potions and pills.

…from Children’s Moments to Sunday School!!  It’s only temporary, but I have been asked to do the Sunday-schooling for the kids at my church for a few weeks!!

Keep me in your prayers if you think about it, and maybe even wish me luck!!

So I went to the dentist today for my semiannual cleaning, and was introduced to something new and a wee bit interesting - tooth paint.  It’s not what you might be thinking; it’s not cosmetic.  It’s actually a desensitizer, and I thought it was pretty innovative!

I have (well, had) this awful sensitive spot on what the hygienist called #20 (tooth #20, I guess).  My gum is wearing down at the bottom of the tooth, and the root is gradually becoming exposed.  I was so afraid that drastic surgical measures would be necessary to correct the problem, but all the dentist did was blow-dry the area, brush some horrid-smelling stuff (reminded me of nail acrylic) on the tooth, then “cure” the “paint” with a mini super-duper heat lamp.  I was intrigued, and I thought I’d share this riveting (I know - I amused by the smallest things) story with cyberspace

John went to a psychiatrist: “I’ve got problems. Every time I go to bed, I think there’s somebody under it. I’m scared. I think I’m going crazy.” 

 ”Just put yourself in my hands for one year,” said the shrink. “Come talk to me three times a week, and we should be able to get rid of those fears.”

“How much do you charge?” John asked warily.

“Each visit is $150,” replied the doctor.

“Well, I’ll sleep on it.”

Six months later the doctor bumped into John on the street: “Why didn’t you ever come to see me about those fears you were having?”

“Well, one hundred and fifty bucks a visit three times a week for a year is an awful lot of money! A friend at work cured me for nothing. I was so happy to have saved all that money that I went and bought myself a new pickup!”

“Is that so?! And how, may I ask, did your friend cure you?”

“He told me to cut the legs off the bed!”