I'm back from Southern California and the new semester starts in a couple of days. As much as I try to deny it, I'm going to be a junior at college. I've got 4 months left as a teenager and I'm pretty sure 20 is going to be the new 13 - neither here nor there. But to happier thoughts now. Following my trip to LA, I have decided that I am going to live for some time, somewhere in California (Malibu would be ideal, but I'm not picky). Is it just me or does the sun just shine brighter in California?
When I left for Cali, the apartment was, to put it extremely mildly, a mess. There were spoons dipped in Nutella hidden underneath the sofa cushions, stuff overflowing from the trash can, boxes and suitcases lying around and a huge mattress spread across the dining area. I lived through this mess for three months and so I had reached a new level of tolerance for all things insanely smelly and dirty. However my room-mates for the year, who had just moved in, couldn't stand the unique smell of stale food and Febreze and so took the vacuum cleaner and went to town on the carpet. When I came back home last night, the apartment was, as Ravi Shastri would say, 'Clean as a whistle' (whatever that means). My room-mates were quite pleased with their work and I was relieved that I didn't have to unclog a toilet or scoop chocolate paste off the backside of a cushion.
Since my room-mates had gone back to India and Dubai earlier in the Summer, I had three new sub-leasing room-mates and so I took care of the bills and they would pay me back. All the bills that I had paid for the month of July had been carefully tabulated in a notebook and I had kept it on a desk so that the residents could drop off their cheques with the amounts specified on the notebook. As I was surveying the clean apartment yesterday, I noticed that the notebook was not in its usual place. I asked one of room-mates, who shall be known as "IS", whether he had seen a book with a white coloured cover. IS replied, "Oh, I think I threw it away while cleaning up the apartment". After collecting my thoughts, I repeated the question just to receive the same answer, yet in a more concerned 'Oh shit!' tone. Another one of my room-mates, who is widely considered to be the smartest person in a 100 mile radius, said calmly, "I guess, you guys just have to dig through the dumpster and find the book".
"We look like classy hobos", said IS as we looked for our trash bags next to the dumpster. Luckily our trash bags were unique and so we narrowed down our choices to 5 trash bags filled with old food and spoons dipped in Nutella. Since I was the only one who had anything to lose, I took out my trusty w810i and started flashing the torchlight as I rifled through one trash bag after another. The wise room-mate announced that he thought we would never find the book when I triumphantly lifted it out of the fifth trash bag. I don't know what I would have done if the book had been lost (I had no idea what each person owed me exactly) and so I was extremely proud of my terribly hungry self for being able to go through the trash at 10 in the night and find the book with the white coloured cover.
The summer had thus ended for me, in the same way as it had started - in the midst of crap, holding on to the one book that would get me my money back.