Caterwauling

Nothing bothers me more than when people fuck stuff up, then chaos ensues, then they finally fix what they broke in the first place … and THEN, the accolades start to fly.

Like how my car sat in a bed of ice for a week, undrivable, and I was reliant upon neighbors, colleagues and cabs to lug my fat ass around. I just saw our apartment’s monthly newsletter, congratulating one person in particular for all his heroic efforts to get the parking lot in tip-top shape in a hurry.

Seriously?

Christ, well then let’s give him a promotion and a big fat bonus for doing his JOB … and late and half-assed, at that.

Of course it’s followed by the bullshit line of asking us to thank him when we see him. Yeah, I saw him a week after the ice storm — where was he in the interim? I assume now that we’re expected to get four inches of white, fluffy shit today, he’ll be burrowed like a goddamned groundhog till the sun comes out again!

So I was up worrying about having less time than I’d imagined to do this move (I swear, I’ve been calling that damn rental office since December — if anyone woulda returned a call, this wouldn’t be an issue. And I still think the mistake is theirs), but I was too drunk to stay awake (as I passed out on the floor clutching my wine glass).

Anyway, I had the best dream — the ideal solution, actually. I dreamed a friend and I decided to team up and buy a house and call it a satellite office, because it makes a lot of sense to just live at work. They brought their staff along, to be our tenants so we could make money off the extra bedrooms.

But true to form, I was in command in the dream. (I’ve been telling everyone that my next career is as a rental agent, because I know all the questions to ask and I’ve inadvertently become a professional at that biz.) I approved everyone but one and told that person they were fired and to get out of my house. Their credit wasn’t good here. 🙂 I found an acceptable substitute, and we all worked happily ever after.