Caterwauling

I awakened with a start at 5:47 a.m., which is usually when someone dumps a bucket of nails or a case of basketballs on my head. 

But there was no noise in my room. Sad how I have come to expect a rude awakening. 

Mom was the lucky recipient today. They must have all slept in her room. 

We went out on the balcony to feed the ducks. Thundercunt stormed out there — them throwing open and then slamming their sliding glass door a million times a day is an added bonus to living here — and screamed inside, “This has got to stop!”

For once, we agree on something. 

Kids are stomping around now like their feet are encased in wet concrete. 

Three more weeks of this shit. 

It sounds like a goddamned exorcism is taking place upstairs. 

The beating on the floor starts at 1 p.m daily. Mom was more sick than usual today and has experienced zero peace to be able to relax and try to heal. 

It’s now 9 p.m and those little (and big) bitches sound like they’re gonna come through the floorboards any minute. With their furniture. 

I used to do work at night. I gave it up when I moved here. It’s the only positive thing I can say about these freaks. 

Three weeks and three days …

Fell asleep to the sound of Thundercunt flushing the toilet a million times. 

Either she dislodged her head from her ass or she was ridding the house of Big Giant Pussy’s dope. Given he was crying like John Boehner all night, I’m betting on the latter. 

Awakened before 5 a.m. to screaming that was not my own. 

Can’t wait to see what tonight brings. 

You’d think that if you were getting thrown out of your home for being dicks, you’d chill out and get ready to behave at your new home. 

Not so much. 

25 more nights till they’re gone. 

I stopped by the HOA office for mailbox keys. It involved a wait for which the girl apologized.

It sure beats sitting in my house and listening to the people upstairs beat on my ceiling, I told her. In fact, I rather enjoyed the peace.

She said your owner called recently to check on them. She said they didn’t renew their lease and they should be out on Halloween. “Life will soon be peaceful for you,” she said.

Mom refuses to believe it till she sees it. But I am bursting with joy that this nightmare will end in 25 days.

Mom worries that someone worse will take their place. I tell her not to be such a fatalist. Haven’t we endured enough?

Today she said that we caused them to lose their home. That we deserved this bad karma and we will get more bad karma for getting them thrown out.

I said first of all, we did not deserve the hell that has been the last six months.

Second, we didn’t tell people how bad it was. There’s a LOT that went unreported and unsaid to people outside of our unit. Even people in blogland and Facepages didn’t hear the half of it. Neither did the landlord or the HOA>

Third, complaints were lodged against them long before we moved in. And I wasn’t the only one calling security/cops after I moved in, either.

Fourth, when I was 3 years old and we moved into an apartment, the landlord looked right at me and said that I mustn’t “upset the apple cart.” I didn’t know what the phrase meant but I got it loud and clear at the tender age of 3 that I was to keep quiet and behave. These fuckers are pushing 40 and raising their kids to be as wild as them.

I said if you’re going to feel bad, feel bad for their new neighbors.

The people like us who just want harmony and peace and happiness. People who cherish downtime and sleep. People who will gain 10 pounds like I have from lack of sleep/overabundance of stress.

Mom feels like she deserves all the hell she receives. And that means she brings it on. She is always talking about rapes and murders and bad, bad things. She always says thinks like, “Our car will break down” and BOOM, it does. Last week she said I’d get pulled over and BOOM, $200 ticket.

So I’m a little fucking sick of all the bad karma that I’m sorry to say she calls our way.

And no, I don’t deserve it. Neither does she.

And now, with the grace of God, our luck finally has a chance to turn around.

I, for one, am taking it.

I saw a job posting in D.C. that I want to apply for. I don’t know if I want it enough to move back there. Or to update my resume. Or to buy a dress that fits so I can try not to offend in an interview.

But it inspired me to do something useful.

So I picked up the phone and talked to one of my people and said time to up your game. And that person said I want to up my game but everyone who came before you has thwarted every initiative.

And I’m like well, I’ll help you up your game but here’s where you need to meet me. That person said well here’s where I’d like you to meet me.

I don’t know that we’ll be able to meet. And I don’t know that I won’t get into another situation like at Ye Olde Employment Establishment where I couldn’t get out of the machine at all, not even for a bathroom break.

So it’ll be like working in D.C. again, but without leaving the proximity to the beach.

Win? Or another instance of “I can die now because it’s all downhill from here”?

I’d love to say I got a good night’s sleep last night and I haven’t thought about leaving the planet once. But I’d be lying.

Awakened to Thundercunt telling Big Giant Pussy to leave, at top volume of course. He told her to keep the furniture and she said to keep the kids. He left for a while but now he’s back.

I don’t wish I were dead. I wish they were.

As for the traffic ticket last night …

I drive slow. Anyone will tell you that. My car is a piece of shit. Mom is in excruciating, untreated pain. I don’t fuck around with speed when they are both falling apart.

I also live in a community filled with lakes and ducks that we feed. I get violently angry when people don’t let the ducks cross the street. Fucking wait for ten goddamned seconds, I always think when people are in my backseat as I let our little friends walk at their own little speed.

So for me to get a ticket from a lying jackass who said I blew a stop sign, well, fuckyouverymuch. I hate beach cops more than I hate my upstairs neighbors. Perfectly useless.

There was a local story recently, where one of these beach cops gave a lady a $600 ticket and she said she’s not surprised that police get shot.

Now while I would never say it myself, I admit I thought it.

Instead I just said thank you (i.e., for not killing me and my mom or for making the cost any higher than it was). And I wondered how people who are so cruel and terrible in this world skate through unscathed, and I feel like people like us have to pay the price out of a financial and emotional piggy bank that’s not filled enough to handle it.

I always tell myself it could be worse. And then it keeps getting worse. Do I have to say it could be better and maybe it would get better?

Because why wouldn’t I get a whopping traffic ticket on top of everything else … and then come home to those motherfuckers upstairs screaming at each other?

I made a mistake and yelled SHUT UP at the top of my lungs, which I know they can hear.

The problem is, they do hear it and will fight all night just to spite me.

I can’t stop crying and shaking. I’m done. I need God to tell me like right now what I need to do to get off the universe’s shit list. Because I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t anymore.

In the 14 years I’ve written in this blog, I’ve noticed something. When I only post positive things, more good things happen. 

And now, when I post about the shitpile of things that go wrong, it only seems to manifest more. 

I’m listening to the noisy noodles upstairs. Thundercunt is screaming, the kids are screaming, it sounds like they are wearing cinder blocks for shoes, and someone appears to be chopping wood and missing the logs and hitting the floor with a machete. 

Meanwhile the world goes on, the madder I get. 

I try very hard to be gracious and grateful that, say, the Walmart hacker only stole my $50 gift card that I was saving to buy a little wine fridge. Walmart won’t reimburse me. Fuck you, Sam. 

In any event, it’s tough to manifest good things when you’re violently awakened each day by Thundercunt’s verbal assault on humanity. I dream of this woman’s demise. But it seems the only bad things I generate are happening at my own expense. 

I used to tell mom not to wish for them to chill or move or die.  But to instead wish for wonderful rewards for us. 

I just wish they would STFU long enough for my nerves to unshatter so I can follow my own advice. 

The more I sift through old e-mails (because, lawyers), the more I am so very grateful for that time in my life … and I’m just as grateful to recognize that the universe has other things in store for you afterward. Of course, it’s like stress just manifests in other forms rather than leaves completely.

Now if the universe can put its royal foot up the ass of the upstairs neighbors who awakened me today by yelling at their bastard elder child to put her fucking clothes on. And then they started fighting and throwing shit for good measure.

This is what happens when I work from home. And I need to be productive now because that fucking Fraggle comes home at 1 p.m. and all hell (and floorboards) will break loose until at least 10 p.m.

At which point it’s pot-smoking and rock concert for Big Giant Pussy and then the traditional “Yo, you’re a LOSER” screams over it by Thundercunt.

It’s no wonder my nerves are shot, my life is falling apart and leaving the planet has become a very real thought in my head.

In 29 days, I lose 28 days of vacation.

In other related news, water is still wet, a bear is taking a shit in the woods and Carly Fiorina continues to be more delusional than Donald Trump.