Caterwauling

Another night of playing “how many times can I call the cops on the jagoffs upstairs before they stop fighting/stomping/throwing things.” Whee!

“Someone who spends 1 hour a week making $75,000 a year will likely be happier (all other things being equal) than someone who spends 80 hours a week to make $75,000 a year.”

ValueWalk, “Happiness, Time, Independence & Dividends“

Although I don’t know if I agree that money can only buy happiness on an income up to $75,000. Maybe if I had someone else in the house making the same or more, I’d be a lot happier. Of course, I’d just be thrilled to not have to float the rent check between the due date and payday …

To go get some lunch to escape the ass smell for a few minutes, or to hope I can leave at a reasonable-ish hour and not have to return to this butt-funk?

I’m ready to cry. 

So other than feeling like absolute ass yesterday, not to mention two broken toilets at home, no toilets at work but a hideous sewer smell choking me all day, life is good.

Got into a fight with the landlord and his idiot henchman. Now it seems I have to pay for repairs. I don’t own that fucking house. Shit can fucking stay broken. Do you think I have a problem with Harley-engine-loud toilets bugging the neighbors? FUCK NO.

They said it’s in the lease that I have to pay. Well, it ain’t in the lease that I have to deal with psycho neighbors, is it now?

I have so much to do in life. Important things. But I expend all my energy on stupid shit like this. And I have to write a rent check with a smile on my fucking face all the while.

I knew this would be a disaster when, after I signed my lease and moved shit in, I was told to sign a lease addendum that made my rent due five days sooner. If I weren’t out five grand in first month, last month, pet and security deposits — and if the walls weren’t literally about to cave in at the old place — I would have lit the lease addendum on fire. Fuck, I would have torched the whole thing.

Alas, now my rent is late because payday is in two days. And the cunt who lived there who didn’t tell me about the banshees upstairs is always quick to tell me I owe them a $50 late fee. (I always paid on time before; her bitch ass can’t do math or read English enough to see that my check always arrives on time.)

And I will be damned if I have to pay an extra $50 for all my aggravation.