Caterwauling

Behind-the-8-ball landlord texted today to say he was going to call his “layer” to see what he could do about the neighbor situation. 

Eight months of this shit and suddenly he gets a good idea, right? Nah. 

Consider that this text arrived in a string containing his months-old promises to bring in a maid service (hah), order screens for my windows (tee hee) and pay for a repair (roflmao). 

He finally texts later to say the thunder bunch will be out at the end of the month. Which he would have known had he called the HOA like he’d claimed he’d already done.

I didn’t reply. I mean he’s an ex-trader. Like all the men I’ve met in finance, he’s a goddamn liar. It’s a feature, not a bug, with that set.

Either way, my lullaby was rolling oil drums over my head. 

Mom got a rude awakening to screaming a half-hour before I did. 

Mine was hearing Thundercunt yell, “I will kick your ass!” And then she threw something to the floor that was heavy — I figure a dresser or a Fraggle — and she charged his loser ass. 

I worry with my mom so sick that she will die. With those fuck nuggets, my fear is that they won’t.