Me+stress=TANTRUM

I’m not an awesome girlfriend right now. To say I had a tantrum on the phone earlier would be an understatement. I wouldn’t be surprised or angry to find my shit in a dumpster at Captain’s apartment complex right now. It would be deserved. Did Captain do anything wrong? No, not really, other than not calling the leasing office when I wanted him to earlier this week. The planet revolves around my obsessive need to plan things, like my future mailing address. Ask anyone who has ever tried to make dinner plans with me. I am like the doctor’s office: if you try to cancel plans or change them within 24 hours, be prepared to PAY mother fucker. Last night I had to bring Shiner back to my place so they could inspect Captain’s current apartment before he could sign a new lease. I was up late goofing off, writing, drinking, and basically acting like a dude on vacation. I went to bed buzzed but with a washed face and sparkling teeth and fell asleep watching Bridesmaids. I got up and got ready for work and the ramp for the highway is about half a mile from my place. It was all jacked up immediately. I had to maneuver through the neighborhoods and took an alternate route to work, which was a little longer than normal. Then at work I got a bunch of stupid shit dumped on me for reasons I won’t get into right now. It’s just going to make me mad but I KNEW it was going to happen. In fact, I feel pretty smug in my fortune-telling abilities right now. I was amped up by lunchtime but by 3 pm after my last meeting, I was nuclear. I have a bunch of shit of my own that has been delayed and now I have to do more crap for other people. So is life. I finished what I could handle and headed home. The Sabres game was on and they were kicking New York ass so that went well. By the time I got to my place Captain texted me a bunch of numbers and a rambling message about the lease and when they needed money. It was WELL above what I thought they had told us. Interrupting the Sabres game plus my work stress plus hormones sent me over the edge, so I called him. The conversation went something like this:

Me: what the fuck are they doing? Do they not understand a reservation?! (They already gave away one apartment we put a “hold” on.)

Captain: No. I sent you all the fees plus the first month rent. Blah blah blah something about prorating rent, blah blah something about the dog fee. (I couldn’t quite hear from all the blood pooling in my ears from rage.)

Me: I don’t need the fucking breakdown of every detail. What do they want to move in? One number.

Captain: It’s $339 for the deposits then rent is a little higher because it’s prorated because I wanted it to start early. (I think.)

Me: Ok, well that’s not what your text says. You said something like $3300, which is way different, Pal. (He’s not great at texting. See photo.)What did they say about the inspection? Did you at least get that deposit back?

So close, yet so far...

Captain: I don’t think I paid one.

Me: That’s straight-up stupid. Everyone on the PLANET pays some sort of deposit.

Captain: Oh, well they took my word for it. They didn’t do the inspection.

This is where I will have to improvise the rest of the conversation because my vision went red, like in Kill Bill when she starts fighting all the ninjas that wronged her.

Me: I completely understand and respect their trust of you, a longtime tenant; however it was an inconvenience to me, a future tenant, to move my dog and things to another location so they could inspect your dwelling. Let me further express my distress by stating that my morning commute was rather difficult due to a traffic accident and caused a reroute through a sub optimized route. I am going to finish cheering on my favorite team then take a nap. I will contact you in the near future to discuss the schedule of plans for the remainder of the weekend.

See? Totally reasonable conversation. Actually, if you had recorded the conversation then played it backwards to the tune of The Wall, you would have heard Satan calling you. Captain told me to have a nap and relax and he would see me Saturday morning. I’m actually going to a wedding show with Mrsitina but I am sure I will see him tomorrow…surely after that at least. I don’t ENJOY coming unhinged. It’s just that I have developed a compulsive need to plan certain things over my lifetime and when you fuck with that, I become a little unglued. When I woke up from my nap, I went to the liquor store then the grocery store because I have no booze or food in my place and didn’t really plan on being here that long. Even Shiner is fairly confused about what we are doing. He was stoked to see his friends, my landlord’s dogs, and play with them in the yard but when I got home he jumped around like he did an eight ball and a shot-gunned a Red Bull. We are all over-stimulated by this experience.

NEW THING: Instead of rambling about random nonsense I experience that about 30 people read, how about you leave a comment here with a place and a verb and I will try to write a short story about it. I have no idea what the prize is, other than maybe a shout out some day in the front of my book? Example: Nuns, running. Then I would have to write a short story involving nuns and running. I think 48 hours turn time is ok. I write shitty news briefs at work way faster than that. Ok, good luck! I love you. (Nuns aren’t even places. I am terrible. Just leave something for me to write about. Maybe I meant nouns and verbs? I’m terrible at the technicalities of writing. I got a D on my first college writing assignment. Thanks, Jim O’Donnell. PS. He gets the FIRST shout out if anyone is crazy/brave/dumb enough to publish me. Knocking me down ten pegs had a pretty good effect on me, including remembering the difference between accept and except.)

 

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Me+stress=TANTRUM

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