Wednesday, December 9, 2009

THe last 48 hours=Snappish

So lately I've noticed an attitude change. Well, I didn't notice it, my friend Danna did and she pointed it out to me while she was here. What really brought it to my attention was when I was forced to deal with my landlord on a particularily cold night.

He'd been making comments about the size and thickness of my rug each and EVEYR time he came by to ask if I was cold or not. The apartment I am living in has radiant heat so it comes up through the floors. I tried to explain that a rug wouldn't stop the heat...but he doesn't believe me. Well, one night I finally was a little chilly and though I was tired I trudged over to knock on his door at 8:30 in the evening.

But he was dressed in his boxers. I had knocked on his door and he was wearing silk boxers and a tee and he invited me in...I was like "NO NO NO, this is NOT that IMPORTANT." I'd gone over in search of a heater he said I could have. SO It could have just been nervousness at talking to a older guy in his underwear...especially with my track record.

He then brought up my rug, again, and put on his coat and sandals and proceeded to walk over to my apartment. Did he bother to put on pants? No.

He then proceeded to get on his hands and knees and fold up a part of my rug, telling me to touch the floor and feel the heat. I'd already done this before with him so I growled, "No, that's OK. Already did that, remember the last time?"

SO then he suggested I roll up the rug and store it in the attic.

I snapped.

I finally told him flat out that I was keeping the rug because the floor is ugly. He then replied with a, "Then you can find another apartment with a prettier floor."
He apologized but it made me realize I was being a bitch.
In the end I ended up carrying my rug to the attic with my eyes shut since he had to go up before me. Use your imagination but for God's sake stop before you go too far!

Oh I am a lonely painter

I live in a box of paints

I'm living in my own creation but still I am not complete :(

Been listening to what I own of Joni Mitchell, NIN Something I can never have, White T's Delilah, Going Through Hell by some country singer, meh...and Swan Heart by Nighwish.

That was Monday night. Tuesday I missed my 12 o'clock bus so I had to catch the 1, which meant I might miss my transfer. I did...but not because the bus was LATE. No, it was on time. The other bus was early.
I saw it and hopped off the bus and RAN towards it. The busdriver of the bus I had just been on honked her horn, flashed her lights, everything...the bus kept going. I know he saw me. I saw him see me. He KNEW I was there...but he didn't stop.
That meant I had an hour, an entire hour, before I the next bus came. An hour of standing on the busy street in the cold freezing rain where I would be oggled and stared at. Horns honking, males hollering, and passer-by's staring. GRRRRRRRRRRRRR. SO I hid. Yes, I hid. I hid by some houses and called my mother.

after work I came home to my landlord in my apartment. I'd told him he could come in and check the thermostat to see if the heat had gone up during the day. No, I didn't get my heater. The rug was gone. The heat would go up then, right?
No, my rug was back in my apartment and everything was as I had left it this morning, plus my rug. It was a little bitter sweet and I graciously accepted his apology--and the heater. He talked and talked and talked and I per usual. Then he left, thankfully, after explaining what  I should do with the heater and where it should be. I nodded and pratically shoved him out the door. Two hours later, maybe three, he's knocking at my door again.

To check the thermometer. Yes, heat has gone up a few degrees. Good night. *shut door*


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