Contemplations as the Curtain Falls

The thrusting dissonant orchestra of cicada.

The bells at the courthouse announcing 11 o’clock.

The gentle buzz of air in motion.

The passing roar of a vehicle.

Rush Limbaugh on my radio.

Such are the sounds in and around my space 24 hours before the move.

What’s missing from this picture of the moment?

Thumping and thwacking of the neighbors.

Thumping – heavy footsteps pounding their floors – my ceiling. Thwacking – their incessant swamp cooler

A Calgon Moment

This is one of those rare moments of bliss. Of peace. Of solitude. Of home the way it should’ve been. A space of respite, replenishment, regeneration.

On the contrary, it’s been anything but.

Stress. Incredible corrosive stress and rage, internalized. Enduring this situation and the couple above has cost me a great deal. Distressed, degraded and lost sleep for starters. I don’t want or need to recount the nightmares of living below Sara & “Dairo.”

I need but two things:

  • Move.
  • Let it go. Let it all go.

When I first saw this place, it was peaceful. The hour was late afternoon. Even if there’d been tenants living above (there weren’t at that time), they’d have been at work. Thus the place would’ve presented a false peace.

Landlords should show places in the evenings. Gives prospective tenants a reality bite that daytime viewings can’t.

A Passing Peace

Yes, I love this space right now. At this moment.

How rare this peace. Which, to me, translates into a freedom from invasion and intrusions from others.

I’m a master at fleeing stressful home situations. I’ve been doing it since I was a child. My family was one big fucked-up war zone. It was flight or fight. Often I fought.

When I got older, bigger and my legs stronger, I fled. I lived life in the home constantly on the verge of running away. Wanting to run away and being unable to. Or actually running away.

My home life was hell. Neither my sister nor I have ever recovered.

I understand the street waif.

I am the street waif in so very many ways.

Grief Gone

The grief in “losing” my current space has given way to enormous relief. “Dairo” above has really escalated the Thug action. What an asshole. A real prick. His energies are nothing I’d choose for myself in life. Or in the home. A restful space they do not create!

In exactly 24 hours, I’ll be loading / arranging my things in a Penske rental truck much larger than I need. I’m taking days off from my Lame Crap Job (as yet unannounced) to accomplish this move.

I can’t combine the energy drains, fatigue and stressors of that job with the demands of the move. I just can’t. I’m 58. I must pace myself. My energies aren’t what they were when I was in my youth. It’s not like I’m losing much income by taking these days off from that job!! {I make minimum wage. Big whoop!}

From Light to Dark

Yes, I moved into this space with light in my eyes.

Not only because I was leaving an insane situation (again!) but I loved the space first time I saw it. It resonated. It was as if we’d chosen each other. As if I was meant to be there.

That resonance was degraded by forces not of my making, by circumstances — and tenants — not of my choosing.

The curtain fell. The place turned dark. A violent intrusive energy moved in. From the man above. An energy of I Don’t Care.

I can’t relate. I can’t wrap my head around Not Caring in shared living quarters. Especially tight ones like these are.

I don’t wish “Dairo” (real name = Y instead of the D) ill. I wish him only his karma.

And it’s a bitch, like they say.

Chillin’

I’d planned to take this day off to wrap up the final preparations for tomorrow’s move. However, I’ve been working with nose to the grindstone and accomplished all that last night! Including arranging the boxes in order of size and weight for loading.

I’m nuthin’ if not the Queen — Queen, King and Ruler! — of Meticulous!

So today, my last full day here, I can kick back. Relax. Chill. I hardly know what to do with myself when I’m not work-work-working!! I may treat myself to a movie.

Sara upstairs will be home for her long lunch — I know the schedules of the couple above waaaaaaayyyyyy too intimately!

The peace and solitude I’m now enjoying will go bye-bye. Vanished. Poof! Gone to the thumping of her feet and thwacking of their swamp cooler.

Letting Go. Moving On.

Yes. It’s time to move. To go. To discover a space that is peaceful rather than wracked by discord, violent energies and other sordid shit that makes apartment living the hell it can be.

In unfavorable conditions. With unsavory or fucked-up people.

It’s time for a new chapter. Fresh beginning. Freedom from he who harms.

Them’s my contemplations in this rare moment of equilibrium. Now: 23 hours and, yes, counting. 🙂

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