Caterwauling

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.

Because why wouldn’t it happen that, on top of losing my keys and not wanting to pay to get a new mailbox lock, someone would hack my Walmart.com account … charge things to my stored Amex … and Wal-Mart customer service would ask me NOT to cancel the card just yet (hah) … and I’d lose all my gift certificates/reward dollars AND be asked to pay a $25 fee to reinstate my account … and now I have to pay for that fucking mailbox because I have a new Amex arriving this weekend?

I don’t know what I did to piss off the karma gods. But I could sure use some good vibes in helping to get off their shit list.

“You seem so out of context in this gaudy apartment complex
A stranger with your door key explaining that I am just visiting
And I am finally seeing
Why I was the one worth leaving
Why I was the one worth leaving
D.C. sleeps alone tonight.”

— Birdy, “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight”

When bad things happen, you know inherently that there’s a lesson in them. But sometimes you don’t learn that lesson for a long, long time.

I’m used to employees grousing. I don’t hear it as much in my current life. But in some previous lives, you’d think people were being held against their will. I may or may not have been guilty of contributing to it. But I was also smart/lucky enough to move on, in many ways.

As a McManager, you have to learn the difference between regular grumbling and threats to the company. I detected a threat to the company earlier this year and sounded the whistle. And I was right.

Knowing myself, I feel particularly passionate when I’m super-invested in the situation. So I tend to have a higher appreciation for what I call “constructive bitching.”

I can’t say much more because, lawyers. But it gets me to thinking how annoying it is that people can make their thoughts/problems more important than yours, and it can impact/ruin your day/existence. Just like some people get all the perks when meanwhile you’ve been screaming “Pick me!” in your head and no one ever appears to be listening.

And at the risk of grousing (and lawyers), that’s enough for now.

I noticed that the HOA twat got a promotion.  Her email signature is now “senior” asshole. 

I was told I have to pay to replace the mailbox lock. At a condo where I am not an owner. Where I rent from an owner who pays fees that include a fucking mailbox. 

Screw it. I only get junk mail here anyway. Let it pile up to the fucking ceiling. 

After all the hell and horror I endure 18 hours a day here, they can’t throw a girl a bone?

So I still have no keys because the girls in the HOA decided not to show up at their office today. You know, they manage 600 apartments and don’t have to show up. 

So, great I get to tailgate people in and out of the garage at home for another day/night since it’s even locked from the inside. FUN TIMES.

At least when I got to work, someone had opened the door. Usually I’m not that lucky. Yay spare key in my drawer.

So, I did get a visitor today. This guy wanders in and starts to approach my desk. Nothing like being in a corner where I can’t escape.

In any event, this guy approaches and out of nowhere I said, “Hi, Matt.”

This guy looked, walked and talked exactly like a past employee named Matt. This guy not only double-took, but TRIPLE-took.

Why?

His name is Matt.

This Matt came in to sell us some services we don’t need. But how weird to “see” a blast from the past. It’s got to be a sign. I wonder if I should call him or something.

Spilled coffee on my shirt today. So I went to buy a new one. And lost my keys. 

Not just my house key. My mailbox key, my gate keyfob and my garage opener. Things that will cost upward of $60 to replace. That is, if the HOA doesn’t send them to the landlord again, who still never sent me the last fob I bought. 

Not sure how to be at work to welcome visitors when I need to be at the HOA office when it opens. I have a spare key in my desk. One problem down, I suppose.  Getting to it, however, is a whole ‘nother one. 

I dreamed I met Janet Yellen and she invited me to apply for a job at the Federal Reserve. 

I loved her. She was a riot. The thought of working for such a powerful institution scared the shit out of me.  But I really wanted to be wherever she was. 

There was this war going on in my head, between “omg opportunity of a lifetime” and “but at least I can hide in little companies that no one outside the field has ever heard of.”

Janet was having none of that. She said your career is going nowhere because the people and companies you think are so great are going nowhere. And since when were you ever happy not doing something to change the world?

I tell you, that dream was a bucket of cold water on my soul. And the Irish saying in my post title came to mind immediately. You don’t get to greatness just by hoping for it. 

Was Yellen trying to tell me that I’ll never see greatness on my current path? That maybe I need to stop letting psycho neighbors (who woke me up from my dream) be my biggest challenge? 

And was I somehow telling her I’m ok being off the world’s radar?  When the hell did that happen? Moreover, when did I become ok with it?

John Boehner just resigned his role as House Speaker and his seat. 

We can do worse. And probably will. 

I don’t know whether to donate to Planned Parenthood or Hillary or Emily’s list or to the Democratic Party.

I don’t have near enough to save the world. But I can tell you I’m more terrified than buoyant. The curse of understanding the issues and what’s really at stake, I guess.