Seriously, this may be one of the Signs of the ‘Pocolypse. Chuckweasel and I were taking out the garbage yesterday (usually his job all by himself, but in his defense, there was a lot of it due to the packing boxes from the equipment) when the Evil Apartment Manager Lady stepped out her door. And my brain said “FUCK,” because generally talking to her makes me all stabby and twitchy, like when she leaves notes on my door telling me to sweep the leaves off the porch… when it’s RAINING and has been for WEEKS. (I solved that one by leaving her a return note that said I would be happy to sweep the porch… once the leaves were DRY and could therefore BE swept.)
So I’m expecting more jackassery, like maybe another leaf has landed on the porch to mock her (really y’all, it’s almost ALWAYS leaves — I think a leaf robbed her granny), BUT SHE WAS NICE! She actually APOLOGIZED for not realizing that I could not sweep wet leaves, and she seemed to be at least somewhat open to my idea for screening in the porch to keep the leaves out! This is the same woman who wouldn’t let me hang those outdoor blinds because, and I quote, “everyone else doesn’t have them.” Truly, the end is near.
We’ll know for sure if she actually approves my screening plan.
PS — I am required as a good daughter to tell y’all that my father says he is not really an asshole. And he claims he was actually not at home on Saturday, not punking me with Rapture phone-tag. So if he is not in fact an asshole, there’s only one place I could have gotten it from… hmmm.