Why does spending money feel so good, but paying the bills feels almost crippling – like losing a limb? Paying the bills is spending money. It should feel like spending money. I WISH IT FELT GOOD TO PAY THE BILLS.
Have you ever had a really bad neighbor? Not a malicious neighbor who does anything in their power to bother you day after day, but the kind of neighbor who simply does not understand the etiquette of living one floor above or blow you?
I have one. My new upstairs neighbor is a real imbecile. Right now he is rapping so loudly that we can hear it over the television, and my husband is trying to sleep because he has drill in the morning. He has to be up at 0430. The guy must be wearing headphones or something, because I was literally just at his door for four minutes, and he didn’t hear me pounding on it. POUNDING, PEOPLE. Not gentle knocking. Slamming his door with the side of my fist. No response. We’ve had to go up there twice since he moved in last month to ask him to keep it down, and it seems to work for a while, but apparently he is too oblivious to everyone else around him to keep it up for long. At first I wondered if this was his first ever apartment, and I thought maybe he just didn’t know any better. After going up there a few times over different things, I have come to realize that he is simply just dense. He seems nice, but he is dense.
The rapping seems to have stopped for now, and hopefully he is done for the night. *fingers crossed*
The Destroyer and I are probably the best tenants any landlord or neighbor could ask for. We are quiet and considerate. We sweep and shovel the snow from all the walkways, stairs, porch, and driveway. We lay salt, not only on our porch, but on the porch above ours where the ignorant one lives, and also on my downstairs neighbors front stoop and all over the driveway. We shovel the sidewalk, too. We don’t cause trouble. We don’t listen to anything loud after 9PM, we don’t host parties and blast music, and we don’t stomp around as if we lived on a concrete slab. It isn’t hard for us to live relatively quietly. We don’t have to go out of our way to be considerate. It’s just a combination of common courtesy and common sense, which is apparently not too common.
The Destroyer and I both of our downstairs neighbors all put together don’t make half the noise this guy upstairs makes. Alone. He lives alone! He’s got no kids up there and he rarely even has any visitors It is just baffling to me how anyone can be so incredibly dense.
I’m afraid I’m going to end up writing a rather aggressive neighbor note and taping it to his door one of these days, but at this point I seriously wonder if he would even see it. O.O
OK, so remember how I threatened a post-Christmas photo barrage? Well, that’s not happening. I took all of like ten pictures, and nine of them are Kokomo.
Who is surprised?!
Also all that video I was hell bent on taking? It turned out to be like three minutes of just sitting at my dad’s house and taking turns waving at the camera. Also Kokomo.
So that’s my Christmas fail. And you know what? I don’t feel so bad about it. In fact, I don’t feel bad about it at all. I had a fairly great Christmas, and it was only “fairly great” because I got a wicked bad migraine and had to leave my aunt’s house before dessert was served.
I know, right?
My apartment is a mess. A real live mess, people. I desperately want to clean, but I’m so incredibly lazy, so instead I’m sitting here, typing up a blog post, and getting all geared up to play LotRO for a couple of hours before work starts. I’m not quite excited yet about the After Christmas Purge, but just wait until I’m tired of stubbing my toe on something that doesn’t belong on the floor a thousand times, or tripping over an empty stocking that for some reason hasn’t made it up off the carpet, or I get annoyed with looking at those tiny bits of tinsel-that-fall-off-of-the-garland-draped-around-my-living-room/kitchen-entryway scattered all over the floor. Because all of these things will happen, and I will get so incredibly pissed off about it all, and then I will start throwing stuff away. And that’s a form of excitement, getting violently angry.
The apartment was crowded BEFORE Christmas. We didn’t get a ton of stuff (thank the gods of gift-giving), but the things we got are piled up on top of the things we had before, and there isn’t an uncluttered surface anywhere in sight. I detest clutter. But I have to work today, and I would rather play video games and blog before going to work, rather than clean the house just to go to work and clean the store. Don’t get me wrong, I love cleaning just as much as the next weirdo, but last night I got my first real night of solid sleep in a week. The guy upstairs listens to (bad) music all night long that keeps me awake, you see. And last night he either wasn’t home or I fell asleep before the party started. Either way, I needed it. Add onto that the fact that I’ve felt sick for days, probably dehydrated and not eating enough and the stress of it all, today is the first day I feel somewhat fine physically.
I’m wicked excited about my Hobbit calendar from Santa. I’m ready for 2014 to start now!
I’m going to practice acknowledging the things I’m grateful for in my life, even if it is just acknowledging it to myself. Some days I just feel so crummy, and I can’t pinpoint why. Part of it is mental illness – which I have very little control over, but I think a larger part of it is boredom. So to combat this, which I’m sure is going to take a lot of practice and daily effort, I’m going to try to think of at least one thing every day that I’m sincerely grateful for. Sounds simple enough, right? We’ll see.
Today I’m grateful that The Destroyer and I are able to provide ourselves with not just everything we need, but also most of the things we want. We have to save up to buy certain things, but we are able to save now, even if it is just a little at a time. We have a roof over our heads. We have heat and electricity. We have plenty of food in our cupboards and gas in our vehicles. We want for very little. I’m grateful for the things that we have.
The best thing to happen in the past two years is our apartment. We love it here. We’re so happy in our own space, and one of us will randomly exclaim things like “This is our apartment!” or “I love you in our apartment!” We still have so much stuff and not enough space for it, but we’re working on downsizing and organizing. One of the things I want to do is put shelves in our tiny closet, so that we have a place for bath towels and sheets and anything else we currently don’t have room for. We’ll go to the Johnnycake Center next month to see if they have a small dresser, because you can never have enough dressers. We’ve got the space for it, and OMG I HAVE SO MUCH CLOTHES. The only other thing I can think of that I want in my apartment is a wall rack to hang my pans on. They are currently sitting on my stove top all of the time, which gets on my nerves. And these projects are things we can do ourselves. It feels good to be able to do things for ourselves, to not have to rely on anyone else.
If I find myself feeling down today, spiraling into that dark hole I sometimes can’t seem to crawl out of on my own, I’m going to think about my apartment and how happy I am to have it. Maybe it will work, and maybe it won’t, but I’m going to give it a shot. Because who wants to be miserable? I sure don’t.