How come every step along the way has to be a fight?
How come you can’t even sleep through the night?
(oh! it’s a poem!)
Craparoonies! It’s 4:00 a.m. No…actually, coming on to 5:00 a.m. now. Already I’ve been awake over an hour.
- My stomach hurts from the aspirin I took because the pain from the gimpy hip woke me up.
- I’ve flown into a high screaming rage because I droppped the Costco-size bottle of aspirin on the kitchen floor and the goddamn pills exploded all across the kitchen floor.
- The damn computer died because I didn’t notice it was unplugged.
But on the brighter side, no data was lost in the crash. Leastwise not that I’ve noticed.
- The damn computer has decided that a lower-case i should be appear with a strange little checkmark in place of the dot over the i.
- But when I elected to bellyache about that here, the phenomenon disappeared, leaving me to look like the idiot I no doubt am.
- The dog is terrorized because I flew into a high rage when the entire bottleful of aspirin scattered across the kitchen floor, much of it rolling under the nonfunctional fridge.
But on the brighter side, it’s quiet over at Tony the Romanian Landlord’s Home for Juvenile Delinquents.
But on the dimmer side, that would be because he’s got some guy over there deconstructing and rebuilding the place, no doubt to accommodate new nuisances.
Speaking of Tony’s Nuisances, last night some jerk in a TOTALLY UNMUFFLED vehicle putzed up to that house and sat there pumping the gas pedal: roar roar roar ROAR ROAR!!!!! Eventually he toddled on up to Gangbanger’s Way, where you could hear him roaring back and forth in the drag races up there.
Where ARE the cops when you need them?
I need to move out of this neighborhood. My son, who is too busy to register just what actually is going on here, is dead set against it. Fighting him is beyond my energy level right now. I may just quietly sell the place without his knowledge and send him a change-of-address card whenever I get ensconced somewhere else. Because…
This fukkin’ stuff has GOT to stop. I can’t continue to live with the Tony situation.
- Meanwhile, the fukkin’ rip-off refrigerator continues to rattle and buzz and clunk away. No word from AMEX on getting my money back from B&B Appliances, the crooks who sold me the damn thing.
- Best Buy has decided nothing will do but what they have to send some lady over here to negotiate over the fridge I propose to buy there.
What exactly I’m supposed to do with the clunk delivered by the B&B thieves, I do not know. Maybe just have Gerardo dump it out in the alley? If I could find someone who wanted a refrigerator for, say, a car repair garage or a school or a charity — where no one is trying to sleep at night to the sound of its unending serenade, I would donate it. But you CAN’T donate large items anymore. Goodwill no longer picks stuff up. So that thing is just going to have to get dumped in the alley for the metal scavengers…assuming I can find someone to haul it out to the alley.
But waitwait! It appears that the Salvation Army, unlike Goodwill, still DOES come by your place… Hallelujah, brothers and sisters!
It being 5 in the morning, I can’t call and confirm that. But at least there’s some hope for dealing with one of the unending series of hassles and headaches. If I can donate the damn thing, I should be able to take the $750 rip off my taxes.
Eating? Who needs to eat? We don’t need to steenking eating! Just let ′em take the money…and forget the food.
4 thoughts on “A New Day from Hell: Four in the Morning”
I really feel ya about the aspirin going everywhere. What I’ve begun doing is opening pill bottles over a tray so if something falls out, it goes into the tray. Saves me quite a bit of aggravation.
Well, I sure HOPE The Salvation Army does pick-ups. It would be great if you could write that junky fridge off as a donation. Also, please let us know because I’ve got a portable washing machine I’d like to move out of here.
That’s a great idea for the pill captures.
S.A, told me, over the phone, that they no longer do pickups. About all you can do is hire someone to haul it away. Gerardo the Wonder Yard Dude said he and his guys would haul this thing off to the dump for me. O’course, that means you have to pay for the privilege. The trip will consume gas — he has to go out there anyway, in conjunction with his business, so he may not demand very much for driving out there. But then he has to pay to get in…I don’t know whether they charge you extra to haul in machinery, but..whaddaya bet they do?
I’ve called several charitable organizations and churches…NO ONE wants a clunky refrigerator that bangs away while it’s running. But…I may have come up with a way to punt. More about that soon.
You may be able to sell it (or pay to discard it) for scrap metal as well, if your gardener could haul it to a scrap yard.
I moved mainly to remove myself from a similar neighbor situation! As Bruce Williams advised, “Are you kidding me? Why put up with that to save a few bucks?” My new abode is serendipitously rather cool, as well.
There’s a thought. The thing isn’t exactly “scrap,” per se. It’s functioning…I guess. Just not the way I want one to function. This afternoon I bought a new machine at Home Depot; they’ll haul off this thing that the appliance store foisted on me. No one, but NO ONE, wants to accept it as a donation.
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