Plague Game

Last night was the Friday Shadake game. Everyone was sick with the cold Shadarack had brought us the week before, including Shadarack.

"You're *still* sick?"

"Yeah... I've got a really good immune system, but I've only been getting six hours of sleep because of Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles..."

Riiight. At any rate, most of us were getting over it, and just had a slight cough left over, which would sometimes hit the same room all at the same time, leading Sandy to call us the 'plauge ward'.

For dinner, we had Taco Del Mar, except for Murdock, who insisted that 'everything they make has beans -- even the meat has beans in it!' That didn't *seem* like the case, but who knows. So he went off and bought his own dinner.

( As for the game itself... )

People seemed to have a lot of fun exploring the pyramids; less fun running from the robots. Probably because they somehow managed to always try a tactic on a group of robots too strong for it, so it ended up looking like the robots (except for the mini-fly eye types) were invincible, when they were actually *almost* getting hurt...

After the game I had to take everyone home, since Lazar was all tired and woozy. I was a little woozy, but not really tired. When I got home there was a nasty note from the landlord.

Hate hate hate

I got a note from the landlord that seemed to imply that my apartment was full of piles or trash and old newspapers, and asking me to remedy this immediately. My apartment was not full of trash and old newspapers, although I did have some empty cardboard boxes, and some of my other stacks (D+D books and DVDs in particular) were a little disorganized.

So my first thoughts were
(a) I knew it! They say they're coming in to install a new fire detector, but they're really doing a 'cleanliness inspection'.
(b) What the fuck? They just did an inspection a month or two ago, and didn't have any problem with my apartment being in the same exact condition then.

So I went to talk to the manager to figure out what was up, and (a) turned out to be false, but (b) was sort of true, although not for the reason I thought -- it turned out that the letter *had* been referring to the inspection of a month or so ago, but they were definately upping the standards compared to the previous owners, whose various inspections over the years I'd passed without incident.

So I asked the manager what I needed to do to get up to spec on the new definition of 'clean', since it was obviously different than the old one. She wanted me to vaccuum and sweep the floors (okay) and wash some extra surfaces in the bathroom (I wash them sometimes, but not every time) and KEEP THE BATHROOM COUNTER CLEAR OF HYGEINE AND CLEANING SUPPLIES (WTF? What *else* is it for?) and NOT STORE THINGS IN CARDBOARD BOXES (WTF?!!!!). Although the last one might have been 'not store lots of things in cardboard boxes', it sounded at least partly flexible, but who knows?

So I don't know what the fuck is going to happen. I should probably be more worried than I am. I don't really feel scared right now, just... blank. I have no appetite, and I can't possibly do anything that I would enjoy, not with all this necessary work hanging over me.

The current plan is to try to get things clean enough to satisfy her, so that I can get a positive or at least neutral reference when I move somewhere else. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here before, but there's nothing I hate more than someone who makes me move.