It’s ladybug season.
It’s also the season where your superintendent decides it’s O.K. to go into your apartment without prior vocal or written consent.
I’m getting really, really stressed out. I can honestly say, aside from job hunting, I’ve not felt this stretched thin mentally in a while. We’ve never missed a rent payment, never been late, always done everything right in this place, and the people who run the show in this building are being supremely ridiculous toward us all of a sudden. I’m not sure how one can break so many laws and contradict themselves on so many occasions without realizing the error or flawed logic in their ways, but these people happen to do it with finesse. Must have a lot of experience.
It’s actually becoming a real mental block for me to hear stories of how illogical and inane people and things can be. I dedicate my life to being a half-sloppy perfectionist, and somehow the coattail riders are coming out way ahead.
It’s not a competition, it’s not a competition.
That mantra doesn’t work for me. These are the people winning at life: the kind of people who say they need an SUV because their car isn’t big enough for two baby seats (when the person clearly has one child and probably won’t mate again with her partner due to their tattered relationship). I start to wonder where they got this mysterious 1-bucket-backseated auto. Go back to the dealership. You got gypped, sonny!
Back on topic, then.
Here’s the thing. When the superintendents are constantly discovered walking in and out of our apartment, should it really be requested, because they’re too cheap to replace a ventilation fan that clearly isn’t working right, that we shower with the door cracked open? I was under the impression this was a paid accommodation and that it was illegal to enter without written notice, not the army. A ten minute shower, taken at 3 separate times of day (there are three of us here) with the fan on should not peel a ceiling. Especially when you walked into my apartment 2 months ago without knocking and told me “Whoops, sorry! I’m just in here because the people above your place have water damage in their bathroom worse than I’ve ever seen in 25 years and I wanted to make sure you girls were alright.” Especially when we keep that crappy fan on for an hour with the door open after we shower.
Or maybe we should just stop showering. That would eliminate a lot of these incongruities between us.
On top of it all, I’m angry that I’m getting angry. Which is somehow an even bigger stress to my system. At least, if all else fails, the supers have already breached the lease contract as well and the Landlord and Tenant Act by walking in and out of our place repeatedly. Shouldn’t be hard to get out if it comes to that.
Anywho, it’s 1:30 now, and the early morning fuels the fire as it were. So I guess I’ll just lay my little plum head down to rest and maybe in the morning after another dream of Bruce Willis and winning a billion dollars from McDonalds Monopoly, it’ll turn out that none of this ever occurred.
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