Today I ambushed Basement Dweller Z, as I have been doing diligently for the past week or two. The encounters usually go something like this:
*Z skulks up from the basement, hoping not to be seen. I greet him in the kitchen, ignoring his deer-caught-in-the-headlights look*
Me: So Z, looked at any apartments?
Z: As in actually been inside them? No.
Me: So, did you at least check CraigsList, the paper, anything? Any good apartments?
Z: Ahh yeah, some good apartments out there. Looking good.
Me: Uh-huh *rolling eyes*
So, today, I ambushed him once again as I was doing laundry. Z let me know that he had quit the job he just started two days ago. Apparently someone reprimanded him for reading a book on the job. He thought that was a jerk thing to do, and walked out. I clenched my fists, and resisted the urge to alternately claw his face off, rip his head off, and spit down his neck.
After a few moments of Lamaze breathing, I approached the apartment question. Here, I was pleasantly surprised. He informed me that they planned on moving out by brother E's next paycheck. I let out a squeal of glee. Of course I apologized, but in a very half-assed way. He assured me they were eager to leave as well. I told him I was glad the feeling was mutual.
So, maybe if I'm a very good girl, the Gods will see fit to smile upon me and grant me this elusive promise of people moving out of my home. Please Gods please. I will sacrifice, pay homage, dance naked, whatever it takes! Be merciful! Today I bought a 12 pack of toilet paper. Deliver me from evil!