Clearing Clutter

Oz on the dining room table at our old place. He loves to be around clutter. I call him “Clutter Kitty.”


After I had a somewhat decent cry after writing yesterday’s post, I decided I needed to DO something. Usually it would’ve been some exercise but I had something I wanted to get done. So that’s what I did.

I decluttered and straightened up my bedroom. And also dusted as I went.

I thought the house we lived in before was dusty. But I’ve never seen dust like it gets in this place. Vents I’m sure are the culprit along with being on a main drag. It’s only 2 lane (as opposed to 4) but still the traffic gets pretty heavy out front, especially during the afternoon/evening ‘rush’ time.

Anywho…I have been wanting to clean up and even pack some shit away for quite some time but depression (I’m guessing) and lack of energy, has stopped me from caring. Yesterday after thinking about how trapped I’ve been and felt throughout my entire life, I felt like the immediate answer was to do a few things.

One big thing was to pack stuff away in boxes like I would if I were moving. And since that’s what I want to be able to do so much, I did just that.

I didn’t pack everything. I kept things out that I will use and need. Some things I packed in boxes and then stored them in my bedroom on the shelves I have in here. I used boxes that tuck neatly into the cubbies that are part of the Ikea shelving B is letting me use.

I took one book case out and packed a bunch of books away. I left one small book case and put the books I kept out on the shelves neatly.

I downsized a big smiley face mug I had been using for pens and pencils. It was a mug that an old friend had given me. I like it but she and I don’t talk anymore and so I felt the need to dispose of it. It’s still in the living room along with my other (bigger) book case. I won’t just throw it away but it’s just that there’s some stuff I need to part with because I think it might be time to move on from certain things.

Some of the other things, things I packed away, I put in boxes for that same kind of reason. Things that symbolize my mother or father, gifts they gave, or in a couple of instance, two things…one I gave my father and one I gave my mother, both of which I now have. Things that came from other family as well. As I wrapped and packed things, I was aware of how a quick, emotional decision would make me just take everything to Goodwill.

With how I was feeling yesterday, it could’ve happened. But since I was aware that that would’ve been an all emotional decision with no reason involved at all, I knew what I was doing was the right thing.

So everything I packed is now in the dining room against a shelving unit we have in there. What’s on the shelves isn’t really accessed so it’s fine there. B asked if I wanted the boxes to go down to the basement, but I said no. I don’t want to put more work into it than is necessary. And he’s got enough stuff down there already.  I think I’m down to one box in the basement that’s mine, containing some Mason jars. I have stuff in the garage, but that stuff can stay there for now as well.

This also feels good in the aspect that I’ve begun packing for a move if and when that happens. I’ve gotten a big chunk of the packing out of the way and since it’s all in the dining room I still have access to it if I should need something or decide to read a book in one of the boxes or something.

As I packed things, I also dusted, filed and straightened up. So I feel like I accomplished something. But I also feel like I have room to think, room to do other things I’ve been putting off and room to breathe.

I think it was also important to do this to help me feel like I’m moving forward, like I’m being proactive in a possible move even if that is months or a year away. My body and psyche needed to feel like it had some semblance of control over something. We have been here for a year but I don’t and have not been able to feel settled or at home here.

But as far as my bedroom is concerned, besides needing more pictures on the walls (which I likely won’t bother with for the reasons above) it looks really nice in here.

Apartment Wreck Number Two Hundred and Thirty Five

The basement flooded. The sink attached to the washer assigned to us overflowed. B went down to get the load from the drier and switch the stuff in the washer to the drier. It was taking him so long I wondered what was going on.

So I went downstairs and expected to see him talking to Nasty because, boy, can she talk.

Nope! One more fucking thing. The floor was flooded and B was down there sweeping it up and out the garage.

I just texted Nasty to let her know what’s going on, because God knows B won’t do anything until all evidence is gone.

Fuck that. She’s gonna know, because this is not our shit. Her building, her stress and her responsibility.

Now he’ll be down there cleaning up the mess, utilizing his time that could be put to much better use, like searching online for another apartment to escape this bullshit.

I have no doubt it’s from something she neglected to take care of.  I don’t believe it’s anything either one of us did wrong. But when I went down there, B was trying to come up with an explanation of how something we washed might have caused that.

I said loudly when he started to take blame like that, “Thirteen years in our house and we NEVER had a flood from the sink attached to our washer. It’s not our fault! We did nothing wrong.”

He went down there at 2pm just to switch out clothes. It’s almost 3pm.

I’m sure she’ll find a way to blame us for it though. Because she’s a blame shifter.

PS. The rent is going up next month.

Nasty Shenanigans

Warning: Might be offensive to those who don’t like swearing and name calling.

I have been pretty mindful about using ‘names’ when I write about things. Names…you know…like, bitch, asshole, motherfucker…things like that.

But in real life I have a mouth like a truck driver. And I don’t know what they‘re truly like because I’ve never been on the road with one. The only interaction I’ve ever had with truck drivers while on the road is through a CB radio when I was a young teen.

A girl I used to hang out with…her mother hooked up with an older man who had a ton of money, had CBs in his cars. So when the mother and he were still dating (before they got married and moved away) this girl and I would sit out in whichever car he had driven down in, and talk on the CB.

Once I talked to a trucker when my brother (who was friends with my friend’s brother) and I went away with them for the weekend. And any truckers I spoke to on those radios, well, I never heard a swear word once.

So I don’t even know if that’s accurate of their behavior. I’m sure being a ‘lady’ they’d curb themselves. But I have no way of knowing that.I can only go by my own experience. And then it’s not like I talked to every trucker ever.

I grew up in a town where almost every single kid cursed. When I was really young though, living in the same town in another area and then moved to another town right next door, I didn’t curse. I didn’t even say, “God” as an exclamation. I used to say, “Gosh.”

Then I moved to a different area of that original town and met a bunch of kids. And that’s where I learned how prevalent the word ‘shit’ was.

I of course learned many many more words as time went on.

I started cursing up a storm when I wasn’t around my parents. I learned so many curse words, one of the ways I used them was to have a contest with my brother to see who could come up with the worst names to call each other. We weren’t actually intending to be mean, (a rarity for me when it came to my bro back then) it was more of a competitive thing and a way to have fun using these words we learned.

When I write here though, and when I write comments on YT, I refrain from cursing/swearing because I know people get offended for one. But also because most of the time it just doesn’t add to the conversation.  I know I haven’t been perfect, I’m saying for the most part.

But irl, when I get angry, all kinds of words sling from my mind and out my mouth.  I call people names, in private though, not to their faces. Maybe that makes it worse I don’t know.

And those people I curse out in my mind usually are people irl who do fucked up shit:
-Like keep walking straight toward me in the supermarket instead of moving to the side, like a considerate person would do if they were hogging up the middle of the aisle before someone else intruded on their entitlement.
-Tailgate (and I’m not talking about partying)
-Stand so close to you when they are in back of you in line, they clearly give themselves away as not understanding personal space.
-Let their dog walk all zig-zaggy, instead of teaching them to heal.
-Let their dog shit on someone else’s lawn whether they clean it up or not. If they’d been curbing the dog in the first place, the dog would not have done it at all.

At the house, I had a lady walk her little dog past the house when the dog took a dump right on the sidewalk by our lawn. My car was parked right next to where the pile of shit was.  I saw the lady down the street, just a few houses down…which on a block of twins, that’s not very far.

I called down to her and said, “Could you come pick this up please.”
She began walking back up and then tried to tell me her dog hadn’t done it.  I told her I’d seen her dog do it from my front window. I’d just happened to catch it as I was on my way out to my car.

She picked it up.

I don’t remember now, but I’m sure I had a few choice swear words for her.

This isn’t only to do with swearing though, but also making up derogatory names for people, usually neighbors.

When we lived in our house, there was a neighbor who lived behind us. He got a dog and then instead of walking her, he’d put her in the fenced in the yard for long periods of time. The dog would bark…INCESSANTLY. And so a couple times I went over to ask him to take the dog in.

The first time he obliged but the second time he said no and shut the door on me. As I was walking back to my house, he yelled out the window at me and said, “THIS HAS TO STOP!” And I said, “Yeah you’re right! It does have to stop.” And I walked away.

After that, I nicknamed him Spawn, which worked really well since his real name was Sean. And so from there on out I referred to him as Spawn each time I had anything to say about him to B.

As for the barking dog situation: One day in the summer Spawn had a party during the day and had his dog outside, who had been barking a lot. B and I went to the state park to go hiking that day. Once I’d seen what was going on, I knew for my sanity’s sake, I’d need to get out of the neighborhood. We were gone all day and afterward ended up at a bar. So we were actually gone all day and then all night.

The next day B was told by his mom, who lived next door to us, that the cops had come to Spawn’s house because they’d been called about the dog.

Ha! Talk about a problem solving itself. I was so happy it hadn’t been me. Because to be honest with you, it would not have been above me to make that phone call.

So now, I have come up with a nickname for our landlady, whose first name is Nancy. So the new nickname of Nasty I came up with, fits fucking perfectly.

I’ve already written about her in this post and the comments go into even more shit. So it’s pretty complete up to this point how much of an asshole she is.

And this brings me to the reason I started this post in the first place.

Yesterday I did a load of laundry. I went to the basement to get one load of clothes out of the drier and then put a rug in the drier from the washer. I started down the steps and as I got to the first landing, Nasty rounded the corner from the lower level.

I jumped because it scared the shit out of me. You know, hyper vigilance and all that. She said, “I heard you come out your door so I was hoping you heard me on the steps as well.”


I don’t know, when I startle someone I generally say ‘sorry.’ But not Nasty. Nope. She can’t be sorry about anything.

She actually moved aside for me though and I bolted down the steps and said nothing.  She walked up the set of steps I had just run down and went into her apartment. She came back down to the basement to do something at the table down there, while I was still fucking around with the washer because it had a bunch of fuzzies from the rug I washed.

Once I’d finished what I was doing, I grabbed my basket of dry clothes and ran back up the steps, saying nothing again.

I noticed the main door to the building had been unlocked but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to talk to her at all. I was trying to relax and any kind of words between the two of us tends to stress me out hard…because she’s an asshole.

I also didn’t lock the door because I figured she had it unlocked for a reason. I forgot about it and really just figured she’d lock it when she went back up from the basement.

Last night I forgot about it, until I woke around 2:30 from some dream I don’t remember, to pee. And then I’d remembered I meant to ask B to make sure it was locked when he’d come in last night and forgot.

So this morning, around 7:30 when I got up again I saw B and asked him to make sure it was locked when he left for work. And proceeded to tell him a little bit of the story of why it had been unlocked in the first place.

He said, “Yeah, I saw it was unlocked last night when I came home and locked it.”

“Ok good.” And I went back to bed, but was too pissed off about Nasty’s carelessness to sleep.

Last night she also put her trash can in the street, so close to the trunk of my car, that if a wind kicked up, it would have fallen right onto my car. I was actually more concerned about one of the trash guys grabbing the trash can so quickly that they’d knock it into my car.

Thankfully B moved it away from my car when he got home and then proceeded to use her trash can to put our trash in.

Landlords, A Wasp and Lies


It is a rare event for me to lie. I don’t know, maybe I lie at times and don’t realize it. Some humans do this. Maybe I’ve done it.  I used to lie a lot when I was a kid. It actually came kind of easy to me too. I could look my mom right in the eye and lie and get away with it.

I stopped doing that when there was really no reason to do so anymore. But also because I began feeling guilty for it and I hated that feeling.

I certainly still tell the occasional white lie to spare feelings if no harm is done.

Besides, most stories are told from a point of view, which is perspective and so may or may not be accurate.

OK, now I just sound like I’m making excuses, and I’m not really. I’m not apologizing or asking to be judged on this, but I told a blatant lie. And standing in my own judgment and giving myself validation, I did it for a damn good reason.

It wasn’t just for the sake of lying. I know some people do that. Their default is simply to lie, even if they don’t need to or if the truth would suit them better.  But in my case, no. As an adult, I’ve even been accused of being “too honest.”

So I thought about that and then asked myself, “Well, how is that really working for ya? Especially when it comes to this lady.”

And the conclusion I came to is that it’s not.

I still knew that things would not exactly work out in my favor, which would have been to feel heard and understood about my concern about the wasp.  But this woman is completely incapable of that. So my interest was simply in being a voice for myself and not backing down. Even though she is obviously the one with all the power, being the property owner.

She truly has the skill of minimizing down to a fucking T. So I expected nothing less (or more) when I texted her to tell her that I found a wasp in the window of our living room.

Here’s the conversation/text exchange:

Me: Wanted to give you a heads up that I just saw a wasp in our front living room window. I shut it and I think I have it trapped but wondering if there [are] more where that one came from.

Her: I don’t think one wasp is cause for worry. Let me know if you see several more.

Me: I’m allergic so any amount is cause for concern.

Her: I don’t understand why you felt it necessary to tell me then. Unless you suspect that there is a nest on the property, and one wasp is no indication that there is, there is nothing I can do about it.

Me: As a tenant it was my understanding we are supposed to tell a landlord such things. I am confused by your confusion. I’ve had this experience before and the landlord on 2 occasions checked his property for a nest. Not that I am telling you to do that but clearing up your confusion. I guess [I] thought any property owner would want to catch something like that early. My mistake.

Her: As I said before, if you see several buzzing around your window, let me know. However, if I call someone and there’s no nest, you will be responsible.

I wish…so wish, there was a middle finger key to send back to her.

But instead I answered back: I will do that. But wasps aside, I don’t understand how that becomes our responsibility. That’s a new one to me.

Her: You are responsible only if your complaint costs money for a false alarm, e.g. having someone come out to get rid of a wasp next that doesn’t exist. Enough said on the matter. We’ll address it if or when it applies.

So in case you didn’t catch the lies, and how would you, since you don’t know me, I will tell you.

I am not allergic…as far as I know. But then, I’ve never been stung by a wasp, only bees.

Saying I’d had the same basic experience before at all, let alone on 2 occasions with other landlords is also not true.

As I said, she is a pro at minimizing shit I tell her about when there’s some sort of problem, concerning the apartment.So I felt these extra pieces would give me a bit more leverage if nothing else.

She did make a point to let us know from the beginning, before we even moved in… “if anything goes wrong or if there is any problem, don’t try to fix it yourself. Call or text me and I’ll take care of it.”

But when I do, the above is a good example as to how she responds. And once again I felt like she was minimizing so instead of remaining silent and boiling over, I chose to lie.

Of course being the the low level narcissist I suspect she is, she is master at that ping-pong game they seem to love to play and knew how to minimize and confuse the conversation as well as hit me where she believes it hurts…in the wallet.

What a fucking circus. I can’t seem to get away from them.

I wanted to sweat it out for a couple more years here but I don’t think my sanity will survive.  I don’t want to deal with the stress of moving so soon but if that’s what’s necessary then so fucking be it.

We will see. I don’t have the final say.

So! If you’ve made it this far and you’re not sure if this woman is the asshole I think she most likely is, read through the comments. I respond to other people’s comments with more of the story and her behavior.