Insensitivity

With all the shit going on, I have no room to complain. But I would be remiss to not fulfill one of the secondary purposes of this blog, which is to complain. 

I haven’t been this much of a slave to my moods in a long time. I go from angry outbursts to crying to…that’s about it. There are periodic lulls, like right now, though I nearly lost it on the third person in a row at the Chic Fil A drive through (third because there are three people that service each customer…the orderer, the taker of money, and the food hander-outer), all of which fucked up my name. I have this problem every time I’m asked to give my name. Sometimes I give a name that isn’t mine, like Abigale or Genevieve, partly because what the hell and partly because I know they are going to fuck up my real name if I give it. I’ve started being slightly obnoxious when I give my real name, ending my pronunciation with “eeeeeeee.” But that doesn’t help. I did that just now and the orderer typed “n” anyway, which prompted all subsequent servers to use “n.” I don’t care if they get Genevieve wrong, and normally I don’t care if they get my real name wrong, but lately my emotional responses have been disproportionate to the situations that provoke them.

So I’m sitting in the parking lot a little while to calm down. Not from the drive through name butchering but from the morning, from life, in general.

I haven’t been taking care of myself, which could be part of the problem. Or maybe it’s all the stress of moving and being pressured by the landlord’s realtor to get the hell out already even though we are paid through the end of August. We were going to have a garage sale last weekend, but the roads got washed out and the city got drowned and people are dying, so we still have stuff at the house. Not that people dying has anything to do with our not being able to move, but I thought I’d mention it since the fucking city is underwater and we are getting phone calls every five fucking minutes asking when we are getting out. We are moving all the garage sale stuff, which is a lot of stuff, out today now that the roads are clear between my new house and the rental. Some will have to wait until tomorrow because we had to get a storage unit since there is a lot of furniture to get out and the storage places and u-hauls haven’t reopened yet. We’ve been told those things will be available tomorrow. Our landlord’s realtor will be pleased to know that we were unaffected by the storm well enough to get out of the property. Oh, and the rental got broken into since we moved out, and the idiots took a broken computer and left an expensive flute. The flute had been moved from the table to the kitchen, so they or he or she considered it worth something for a moment. The rest was somewhat ransacked, and a window was broken. None of that helped my mood. And someone was still in the house when I got there. They ran out after I went into a different room, so I didn’t see them or him or her. 

It’s too bad they didn’t just take all of it except the flute. If they had, I wouldn’t have to move the shit. At least I get to fix a window. At least I get that. Hopefully we can do that before the end of day tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience anyone.

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I’m feeling a little better now that I vented. Regardless of whether this is read by anyone, it’s good I have a place where I can vent and not piss anyone off. Wait, I’ve done that here too.

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I’m going home now. To the new home, not the broken, invaded one.

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Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

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