Tuesday, June 15, 2010
I don't get embarrassed. I don't ever feel overly concerned with appearances. Like when you first meet a large group of people at a function I.E. my college orientation and the ice breaker is share your most embarrassing moment, I either come up dry or I embellish a so so story to make myself seem more interesting. This has now changed. For the first time in years, I, Courtney Whittamore, was embarrassed. I know. I was just as shocked as you.
What is the source of this travesty you ask? What could possibly shock the girl that walks around in her p.j's like its her job and every injury story she has involves some sort of blonde moment on her part? Well... let me just tell you... My apartment.
I am living in the Grove with about 100 something artistic people. That alone is difficult. But we are also artistically minded people that have no time to live lives separate from the theatre, therefore any idea of creating a home or even unpacking your boxes from move in day just doesn't exist. Also, the stage of our theatre is sand, meaning the the floor of my apartment is also sand. It's funny how things accumulate. Its sad when you don't realize how gross your apartment is until you notice you have quarantined yourself from the kitchen willingly because you are afraid of what will jump out of the sink and say good morning to you.
Of course there was a catalyst to this realization aside from my fear of unknown sink creatures. Last night Sarah and I had friends over to just chill out and talk. The night was spent in our living room, and as way led to way I ended up sitting on the floor. As this had been the first time I had experienced the view from the floor, I took a survey of my surroundings... and I was not pleased. I was greeted by papers spilling out from under our coffee table, clothes strewn about, and dust bunnies galor. I was mortified. I quickly glanced around at my guests and saw that they were not paying any mind to what I was now fixed upon, however I decided that after tonight, no one would ever come to our apartment again and Sarah and I would be friendless if we did not take action, even though they had been to our home before.
There are many reasons that I love my roomie, but one of the biggest is that when it comes to the important things, and by important I mean insane, we are always on the same wave length. I think there may have been an exchange of three sentences before we decided to declare an all our war on the filth that was claiming our home.
Within moments we were in the car on our way to walmart. After about a 30 minute drive we saw that it was closed. CLOSED! In a desperate effort we searched high and low for some where that was open. Thank God for 24 hour food lions. They saved our lives. We purchased insane amounts of cleaning products, bleach, and air freshners and grimaced as we watch our paychecks drain into our fit of insanity. Non the less we journey onward. Although the 24 hour food lion supplied us with most of our needs, we were not satisfied, so being the strong willed women we are we popped a squat at Mcdonalds and awaited the opening of Walmart. Soon enough we were in the store, making our last purchases and heading back to our tangle with disgust.
Our trip started out as light hearted and hopefull, but as we neared the Grove, our game face was firmly set in place. There was a job to be done, and it was going to get done if it was the last thing we did... besides the show of course :)
The actual cleaning itself was epic. I have never seen that much filth and dirt capulized in one home. I will not go into great detail on here as I still want to have friends by the time I finish this blog post.
So... needless to say I am exahusted. I sacrified sleep, one of my most favorite pastimes, to clean... However, I can sucessfully say that sarah and I live in a home now, not a trash can... and to that mess I experienced in the ungodly hours of the morning, I have only one thing to say. Check. Mate.