I’m in the home stretch.
No pun intended.
In some 43 hours, the 9-month home nightmare ends. Officially. I’ll have the keys both to the rental truck and my new place.
I’m beyond ready to put this situation with the neighbors … their noise … the crappy construction … their thwacking swamp cooler that I’ve been listening to for two months.
All of it. I’m done. I want out.
A Thug is a Thug is a Thug
You can’t make people be nice. You can communicate. But in the end, a thug is a thug until he decides to be good.
Noise conditions being what they are, in truth, what I want and need is to move away from the energies of the man above. While his girlfriend, Sara is no great shakes either — made complicit by her mousiness — it’s “Dairo” (substitute the D with a Y) who’s made the situation bad. He’s a violent, vindictive, self-absorbed, boastful, arrogant, macho prick. A thug. Even if his “better half” wearing the rose-colored-I’m-in-love spectacles can’t see it, I can. I can feel it through his footsteps. His demeanor.
One day he’ll smack her around. It’ll catch her by surprise. She’ll go into denial about who he is, remain submissive and “try to fix it.” He’ll apologize. Then it will happen again and again. The cycle of domestic abuse is real. And almost predictable.
She’ll stay. He’ll continue to be the dick that he is. By that time, I’ll be long gone. But I’ll remember Sara and her thug “Dairo.” Not fondly. I’ll hope the best for her that she wakes up to what I already know about him. Him, I don’t care what happens to him. He’s bad news putting on a good front. Like violent/abusive men always do.
So I’m absolutely welcoming this move (although theres no denying the work, stress, financial impact, lost wages etc.).
I’m welcoming this move to be free of “Dairo.” And his busty blonde babe with the rose-colored glasses. Poor kid. She deserves better. Hopefully one day she’ll discover that. Hopefully it won’t take too many punches, derogatory name-calling and other sordid forms of abuse from “Dairo” to set herself in motion into freedom and safety.
Though that’s when the move officially happens, I’ll be bouncing between the old place and new for final smaller loads and cleanup. The space I’m vacating looks magnificent thanks to my M-E-T-I-C-U-L-O-U-S attention to every surface and detail.
When I write that no stone has been left unturned, I mean it! The reputation of my property management company to concoct reasons and lies to keep the deposit precedes them. They’re so despised my some former tenants that they (tenant) will never again rent from them.
Forewarned is forearmed. If the place clears my EXCEPTIONALLY high litmus standards and eagle eye, then I feel good about not only leaving the place immaculate (which I’d do regardless) but reducing risk of the landlord meanies.
Well, when I started this post, the upstairs neighbors hadn’t yet returned from work. They’re back now. I know because their swamp cooler is THWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKTHWACKING. Boring a hole into my head that I do not need.
Motherfuckers. Good riddance “Dairo!” You won’t be missed. And to the mousey Sara, I hope the best for you. I hope one day you wake up and see what a thug prick you’ve settled for and act for better for yourself and others closely involved.
… so close, I can taste it.