2005-07-16 @ 11:46 p.m.
I love Guardcat. For one, she’s incredibly cute and furry....
For another...well, she’s so incredibly neurotic, that she makes me look totally normal. And that’s really going some. Like last night when I was in the bathroom, she came skulking around the corner like she always does.....Low to the ground...Eyes darting furtively in all directions...obviously scoping out possible al’qeida operatives around the bathroom. I then said her name. She momentarily looked up and relaxed. I then made a kissing sound and she abruptly lowered her head, looked around, and went ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! suddenly tearing out of the bathroom, and running to some unknown location in my apartment. The reason? She had looked back and saw her own tail and evidently thought it was some kind of feline terrorist sneaking up behind her.
I actually got to play the part of Tom Cruise on Wednesday at work. Huzzah! I helped to co-facilitate our women’s group and the group leader had run off copies of Tom Cruise’s interview with Matt Lauer from the “Today Show” for our group to read and discuss. I warned her beforehand, that I had a few opinions about Mr. Cruise, but she didn’t seem to have any problems with that. So we read the interview aloud and I got to read Tom’s part, because 1) I’m short (like Tom) 2) I have dark hair (like Tom) and 3) I’m a total narcissist (like Tom). It was total typecasting. It was fun reading the dialogue though, especially the part where Tom kept saying, “Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt...” I really hammed it up there. I had planned on jumping up and down on a nearby couch a’la Oprah, but I didn’t want to scare anyone and besides when Tom Cruise does it, the authorities aren’t generally called in.
We are still hopelessly trapped in some of the hottest, most miserable weather imaginable. Its really been rough not having a reliable car this week, because I’ve had to rely on various people and I’ve also had to take public transportation and stand outside in oppressive heat. And I’ve already been a bitch on wheels anyways, without my medications. This has been one of my worst manic episodes ever. I feel like I just drunk like 1.6 trillion gallons of caffeine. I’ve only been sleeping about 3-4 hours a night. I’ve been talking so much and so rapidly, that even my mother can’t get a word in edge-wise. I went and got a massage Thursday and the masseuse asked me if I was going through a crisis, because I was so uptight and my muscles were so atrophied. She did do a good, if not intensive massage. The first one I got last month had left me in a lot of pain afterwards. But this one, did do its job to relax me a bit. I mean, nothing will ever equal a Married Guy massage, but considering the options, I think I might have found the next best thing. She even massaged my chest muscles which was something new. She said the muscles around my heart were extremely tight and she was worried the effect they might have ON my heart.
I was very frustrated on Thursday, however. I was frustrated that I had to take 2 buses to “A”s group. I was frustrated that I was supposed to meet the guy who had offered to fix my car and then he never showed up and we didn’t have his phone number. I was frustrated that I had left my car windows open during a huge, flooding rainstorm and totally drenched the inside of my car. I was frustrated at how poorly my car drove all the way home after the storm, stalling and bucking in traffic. I kept waiting to get hit by some SUV if I didn’t pull away from a light fast enough. And even though my mom was trying to help, I was frustrated that she got mad at me when I could only talk to her for 3 minutes because I had to catch the bus to work Friday morning, and if I missed that bus, I would miss my appointment, which would impact two other people who would be wondering where I was. I also thought I was going to miss a doctor’s appointment I had missed Tuesday, and rescheduled again for Friday, because I had no way to get out to my doctor’s. And my mom wanted a full answer about what I wanted to do, when, in fact, I didn’t know what I wanted, because I was feeling too stressed by circumstances which were out of my control.
About the only thing that went right was that I was able to get to my appointment with my client. Why? Because our new employee was “shadowing” me to learn her new job and we took her car. But holy fuck, she drove like a total maniac. I was scared to death. She not only drove way too fast, she also blew through a red light, that had already turned red and traffic had already started to move, so we nearly got creamed. And there I was sitting in my seat, flailing around, trying to stomp on some imaginary brake that was supposedly installed on the passenger side, but guess what? There wasn’t any.
Her car was also totally filthy. It looked like a garbage scow. The back seat was hip deep in trash. Food wrappers. Bottles. Newspapers. Big garbage bags full of something. Old clothes. Shoes. Jimmy Hoffa’s body. I hadn’t really noticed how bad the back seat was, until we stopped to pick the client up. I was totally embarrassed. It took her a good 5 minutes to clear out a space on one side of the car for my client to sit. I was actually a little perturbed too. Its like hey, ya knew you were going to have passengers in your car today, wouldn’t it have been nice if you had stopped at a trash receptical and tipped your car vertically for about 45 seconds and emptied out all 33 tons of garbage you have in it? It was really gross. And I really like “K” too, but this is the first time I’ve come in contact with the “garbage” factor. She’s actually talked about it in our groups. I guess her apartment is far worse. Like dishes sit in the sink for months. And she has bags of garbage sitting around waiting to be taken out. The one time she talked about it, I told her how good it feels to get things cleaned and how much your self esteem improves when your surroundings improve, but I guess she didn’t take my advice. I’m not exactly a perfect housekeeper, but keeping a bag of garbage in the house any longer than it needs to be, well, that’s just not acceptable.
Lunch with the client went pretty well. This was the woman who lived on one of the worst, crime-ridden streets in our city. In one month, they had a drive-by shooting where a baby got shot, and then someone fire bombed a house. And the street is only 2 freakin’ blocks long. So I was very happy that she got out of there. She also seemed to be in better spirits, which is what my job is all about.
“K” brought me home fortunately, so I then called my mom, and had to listen to her bitch and moan about the fact, that I needed her to take me out to my doctor’s appointment and how hot it was going to be. Try standing on a street corner waiting for a bus? (She has an air conditioned car, although she needs a little freon). She finally came and picked me up around 3 and we both had to suffer through wet car seats (she had left her windows open during the rain storm too). So I got my third hepatitis shot and picked up my long lost prescriptions (YAY!!!) and then we headed over to my new likely apartment in the yuppie village. My mom had talked to the real estate guy who showed us the apartment and he told us that the apartment we looked at was actually left unlocked since it was like a model apartment, so if we wanted to go look at it again and take measurements we could.
As soon as we drove up, guess who greeted us? Freaky Eyebrows (a.k.a. A potential pain-in-the-ass). She came scurrying out of her apartment to greet us. “Oh, I heard a car door shut and then saw you walking up! Hi Witty!!” And rather amusingly, she could remember my name, but not my mothers. Heh, heh. She then said rather excitedly, “The apartment up over me is going to be empty in August. Maybe you can be my neighbor!! I’d really like that. You seem really nice (oh, if she only knew). Because I’m 53, the neighbors on the other side are in their 50’s and you’re in your.....(long pause)....you seem really nice.” (good going, not trying to guess my age. Too old would have made me mad. Too young would have made me laugh. Guess she didn’t want to piss me off). But she was so clingy and talkative, I almost thought she was going to join us, to look at the apartment. We finally extricated ourselves and when we were out of earshot, I whispered to my mom..."No way would I ever want to be her neighbor. She seems like the type who would be nice initially, like bringing you cookies, and then the first time I walked across the floor at 2 a.m. when I have insomnia, she’d be calling the landlord complaining."
I remember I had a neighbor once in California, who came and rang my doorbell. I didn’t really know her except by sight. She introduced herself and then made a most incredible request. “Can you not walk on your bedroom floor after 10 p.m.? It wakes me up.”
What am I supposed to do, levitate up off my bed, when I have to go to the bathroom? I told her I couldn’t guarantee that. She then asked if I could take off my shoes in my apartment, because I was walking too heavily during the day too. Guess what psycho-bitch...well, I didn’t actually say that, I was just thinking it...I pulled open my apartment door and showed her all my shoes by the door. “I don’t wear shoes in my apartment. I take them off as soon as I step in.” (And I only did that because I had hardwood floors and was ALREADY aware that I probably made noise when I walked. She then said she was going to talk to the landlord about me, and that she thought I wasn’t being very considerate. After she left I called my mom and just started going off on her. I was so angry. But I did take the high road. I didn’t do a Busby Berkeley tap dance number on her ceiling that night.
So my mom and I went up to the apartment and looked around. It was a little hotter than the first time, but then again, its been hot and humid for about a week now. I guess the heat is starting to seep in everywhere. I measured out a few things and we tried to figure out how I would lay out my furniture. I am really starting to get intimidated by this whole move thing. Since Section 8 doesn’t pay landlord until about the 4th or 5th, will he let me move in with only a promise of an upcoming payment, or will I have to come up with a full $1100? Because I just don’t have that kind of money. There is a local agency that helps people like me, and “A” says he knows someone there who might help me with a deposit, but I’m still angsting about the rent and deposit not to mention the cost of the movers (probably over $300). And I’ve already given notice here, and I’ve already started the paperwork at Section Eight, so things are pretty set into motion. Arghhh!
But I was able to get my meds after we left the apartment, and I was very thankful for that. I was able to sleep a little better last night, and I wasn’t quite so wing-nutty today. I even went out and saw my cute little Johnny Depp in “Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” today. He was strangely delicious in his weirdly Michael Jacksonesque persona. You really can’t get around the fact, that he’s using old Wacko Jacko as his muse, with the pale skin, the pageboy haircut, the lispy, high lilting voice....even the clothes. But for me, it doesn’t really eek me out, as if Michael himself was doing the part, because its so obvious that Depp is giving us a little wink with his performance. In any less talented hands, it could have definitely been creepy, but Depp doesn’t show any interest in the kids, and I totally bust out laughing in the scene where he’s laying on shrink’s couch talking about his childhood, and then the camera pulls back and there’s an oompa loompa sitting in a leather chair in a pinstripe suit taking notes. Ha!!
I also finally, hopefully, got my car fixed today. The guy who never showed up Thursday, finally came over about 5 p.m. to my mom’s house and did a tune up and replaced all the spark plugs (which appeared to be the main problem. They were so rusted out, they weren’t sparking properly). He only charged me $20 instead of the usual $65 he'd charge if I came to Midas where he works. So, fingers crossed, this will help the Ford Tempo of Doom, live for at least a few more months.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty