A Smoldering Pile of Teary Ash.

Today was one of those days I’d really rather forget. I woke up after a night filled with dreams involving my dentist and rather painful tooth extractions, so already I was off to a great start.

Things were going about as well as can be expected on the first day back to work after a pretty good four-day weekend, and then our super rang the doorbell to register a noise complaint. From Saturday night.

A few things about this, because I feel the need to publicly get this off my chest. First, ROCK ON, we had a party that disrupted our lame-ass neighbors! I feel suddenly about 10% cooler than I was yesterday.

Second. For the love of god. If we are being so loud and obnoxious that you feel the need to complain, then why oh why didn’t you knock on the door and tell us to shut the fuck up? We are not unreasonable people. We know how to adjust the volume on our stereo. And, if you’re not going to complain to us, then why not call the super? Why the hell did you go to the MANAGEMENT OFFICE? What are they going to do about it TWO DAYS LATER?

Third. The party was over by 12:30 and the music was OFF by 11:30. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not as old as I think I am, but that doesn’t seem that late to me on a Saturday night. Last I checked, we didn’t have any neighbors younger than 10 or older than 60. So I’m not really seeing the big deal, here.

Fourth. Clearly our tactic of never saying hello to our neighbors once in the last 3+ years has not worked in our favor. Even so, this is not going to help change our tactics. I think I am going to switch over from politely turning away to glaring through slitted eyes at everyone I meet in the elevator from now on.

Fifth. We need to buy a house. Seriously. Now.

Anyway, that was enough to send me over the edge. I’ve been wound so tight these days that it doesn’t take much to push me over the limit. Billy found me crouched in the corner, crying uncontrollably and there was nothing he could do or say to make me feel better. It was just the straw on the camel’s back for me. I have too many things too precariously balanced to deal with a two-days-after-the-fact noise complaint.

Then I went to class, my whole world caving in around me, with nothing to put up for our critique except a blank piece of paper. And, being in no mood to paint, I found myself just scribbling all over the paper without rhyme or reason. Of course, being art snobs, my teacher and TA both thought this was brilliant and inspired. So then I took it up a notch and started painting little kid-type drawings of trees and suns with smiley faces in them and flowers and birds and all that nonsense. And that’s when my TA came up and asked if I was being serious. And it was shortly after that when I excused myself from the room to go outside and cry. Again.

Clearly I need a vacation. I’m just too far over the edge. I found out at the end of class that I have TWO more, not ONE more, painting classes to attend before the end of the semester. So I came home, drank a bunch of beer, had wild and crazy sex with my husband (maybe we’ll get another noise complaint, yippee!), and now here I am. I still have a thousand things to do, plus a hankering for Guitar Hero, and it’s almost 9pm. There is no end in sight. I told Billy tonight that I feel like someone has just lit me on fire and said, it’s ok, you only have to live like this for two more weeks. I just hope that there’s something a little more than a pile of smoldering ash left at the end of these next two weeks.


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