Tuesday, Nov. 12, 2002 / 10:05 p.m.

~Enough With the Ridicule, My Unit is Being Inspected~

Call me territorial, call me a hermit, a homebody, whatever, I don't care. This is my apartment. Just me and the girls. Every day all the time. No one has spent any time here, not really, since I was 'seeing' Terrence, and that was three years ago.

So, when maintenance wants to come in here, especially when I'm off at work, because don't you know they plan it that way, oh yeah, well, I'm freaked. I don't want people in here when I'm not here. I don't want them here when I'm here, but knowing they're going to be here while I'm sitting in that fucking cubicle where I waste my life every single day, and they'll be looking around, you know they will, well, grrrrrr.....

Mark came by after work to drop off tapes he made for me, and when I told him about the notice I got at my door, the one saying I don't need to worry about when I'm going to call maintenance about my broken heater because they're coming by to inspect my unit (sounds dirty, doesn't it?), he was basically laughing at me. That's because he doesn't care about a whole lot, no passion, no strong feelings, no protective nature about anything that I can tell. You could pretty much do anything from key his car (it's just a lease after all), to show up at his home unannounced (he'd be glad for the company) at 3:00 in the morning and he wouldn't care.

Me? I care. They're going to come in here and inspect my appliances, my 'floor coverings' (and do what to them if they need whatever?) and basically poke around.

I know, I know, this is the perfect opportunity to call up and say, "Never mind inspecting, the heater is broken and so is the garbage disposal, hop to it, will ya?!", but still, it's so open ended, the 'appointment' is for some time in the 'next week or so'. Grrreat. Love it. Sooooooper.

Most people don't mind this shit, right? Sure, come in while I'm in the cube from hell. Go right ahead. Search through my stuff, poke at my cats, pee on my new toilet seat, help yourselves. More than two, no doubt, how many will there be?

It's my place, you see, but it's not my place, not at all. It's theirs, and I just live here, and it's been five years, and that's longer than I've lived anywhere since I was 20 years old, and well, I need to move again probably, but I also need a new job and a new car, and I can't afford anything, and if I thought about any of this too hard it would cause major discomfort more uncomfortable than just some routine inspection and I would get laughed at a bit more.

I'm getting a bit tired of being ridiculed.

Maybe for a change I'd like to just throw something out there and not get a lot of advice or chastising or, well, ridicule. Maybe just listen for a change. Don't even say anything. This is my life. I'm entitled to feel anything I currently feel. Or am likely to feel.

Anything that needs fixing is not going to be quick and easy. The heater is broken. The garbage disposal is broken. Both may need replacing. This requires time, and the presence of one or two strangers in my apartment, moving things around, looking around, maybe using my phone, or god knows what, and again, I don't get to BE here when it happens. That's the way they work. "Oh, don't worry, we have a key, you don't need to be there."

I'm tired. I didn't get a lot of sleep. Gladys was all over the place all morning, like 4:00 morning, barely not evening anymore morning. I'm tired of being sick, of feeling like I've got the flu, feeling great, then feeling sick again. And Listerine is sick again. AGAIN. How many times has she been sick this year??? I'm thinking every other month. She's really, really sick. Like bad flu sick. Like I was a month or so ago, IN BED, sick, but she has no sick time, no money to miss work, so she's coming in, and I'll probably get reinfected. Not to mention I feel for her. I know exactly what she's going through.

I felt great yesterday, then today I started coughing again, my neck and head were killing me, I was in horrible pain, I felt exhausted. It's horrible.

In fact, it occurred to me today, on my way away from there, coming home for lunch, that maybe it's a psychosomatic reaction to the job itself, or the job really is making me sick. Some environmental pollution is causing me to be sick. It's possible. I feel pretty good when I'm away from there.

Regardless, the point of all this whining is the irony that I've been hedging on the whole maintenance issue, and now it's being resolved for me, whether I like it or not. They should come here and see how everything is working, or not working. And they shouldn't inconvenience me to do it, they should do it while I'm out earning my living, and they should fix what needs fixing, it's included in my rent. It's only fair. Why do I have to be so upset about it?

Because I've stopped taking care of this place. It happened about the time I got the computer, I think. My 'free' time is spent here, not taking care of my belongings, my surroundings, and frankly, I'm embarassed as hell for anyone to see how it looks. I don't want anyone here to criticize, or, here's that word again, because I can't think of another right now, ridicule.

I feel gross. I had way too much sugar today, finishing off Penelope's Halloween sugar pumpkin candies. And Oreos after dinner. I'm tired, I'm wasted, I'm stressed, and my horoscope said this week was supposed to be really good, but it always says that.

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