Yeah, I admit it. I'm beginning to hate this place that we've moved into. I could try to keep lying to myself and say "Oh, this feeling will pass. I really am just stressed out and that's it, seriously!" If that was even remotely believeable, however, I should be off somewhere selling impossible things for incredible amounts of money, making the concept of selling ice to eskimos look like child's play. No, I'll admit it, I am beginning to hate this place.
The neighbors irritate me. I do my best not to allow myself to be irritated but I can't exactly help the way their screaming arguments in the middle of the afternoon set my teeth on edge. And I do rather feel disgusted by how they find it appropriate to leave the bag of garbage sitting on the front yard until it is dragged down to the dumpster. It'd be one thing if it was in a garbage can of some sort.
It's not, however, and I am daily amazed by the fact that a raccoon or something hasn't strewn their garbage across the parking lot and the yard. I'm horrified by the fact that they're willing to let their infant children play where the garbage bag sat and there are remnants of the garbage still in the lawn. I hope to god this doesn't make me an elitist snob or something insane like that. I work very hard not to be a bitch like that.
The carpet is in the midst of coming apart. My son can't play on the floor unless I've put something down for him to play on. Otherwise, he's pulling up chunks of lint and putting them in his mouth. To put it lightly, this is not acceptable and I'm more then a little upset with this. Each day that passes, the angrier I get with that minor fact because you can't walk across the room with out lifting up the nap of the rug and having lint balls left in your wake. Nothing I can do will resolve this problem, it's going to happen until the rug is bare or it gets replaced. Neither of which I don't think we'll be here for.
I have been doing my best to clean this place up. It was filthy when we moved in. The manager had told me months before we moved in that it was going to have the carpets replaced, damage repaired, and everything cleaned up. That didn't happen. I have cleaned out black mold in the kitchen cupboards, picked up nails left in the rug, and I've yet to get all of the soap scum off of the tub and shower surround. The owner of the complex appears to be of a mind to jerk us around and it's making me angrier by the minute when I think about it.
I do my best not to think about how they're attempting to screw us. But, when I look around here and I see the degree of disaster around me, I really want to go burn things down. I hate the process of moving. I hate the process of searching for a new place to live. I really, really hate the fact that we're forced to do so again after having been living here for barely a full two weeks. Somebody please tell me, what god did I piss off?
I'd love to know. Because, I really can't think of any reason why we've got an asshole running the show here trying to scam money out of us and attempting to strong arm us into doing what they want. And all the while, we're supposed to shut up and accept what pittance of responsibility they decide to accept in the maintenance of this place? I'm sorry, but I've got enough of my pride where I'll fix my own damn problems if the solution is within my abilities and they can't be bothered to help us out. And I'll be enough of a bitch to send them the goddamn bill for it too.
Thank god they took care of that problem with the drain in the bathroom sink.
Gods, I really really want to wing a brick thru the car window of the owner's nice little new looking leased sedan the next time I see it in front of the office and to have a conversation with that former manager who we were talking to when we signed the lease. Yep, a conversation including a nice baseball bat. My thoughts are tending towards the aluminum one rather then the wood one. After all, wood is relatively soft compared to metal.
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