40 Days, Fat Tire & a Fucking Bad Neighbor.

I skipped the dark coffee this morning.

Say it ain’t so!

Oh, it be so.

Instead, I headed to a Fat Tire ale. Straight from the bottle. No chilled glass from the freezer.

Terrible insomnia. Around 3 hours tossing and turning. It was 6:05 a.m. last I dared look at the clock. Stress.

Started drifting in and out around 6:30 a.m. Finally! Slept maybe 4 hours. Better than nuthin’. Still, far from adequate for my work shift tonight ’til midnight. Long day ahead. I run a radio board. I work alone. Fall asleep at the job and buh-bye job.

Stress.

It’s official. Neighbor James has moved from being a Bad Neighbor to a Fucking Bad Neighbor.

Gist is, a week ago we talked for the second time about the Montrosity called his swamp cooler. The noise. The loud idling of a car engine combined with the high-pitched squeal of metal on metal. Which is far worse than the former.

24 hours a day. 7 days a week. In 40 days, that damn monstrosity has been off only 4 times.

It gets worse. James is RARELY home. He’s 20. He’s tight with his guy friends plus has a girlfriend. Easy math why he’s away.

Yet that motherfucking monster runs. Runs runs runs runs runs and runs. Day and night. Regardless of weather. Regardless of temperature. Could be a fucking blizzard and it’d still be running!

Because James is forgetful. He is negligent. He’s too engaged with his own life to remember that others in close physical proximity also have theirs.

Or not.

Last week, second talk. He promised PROMISED to turn off the Noisy Montrosity when he’s away. Or when it’s not too hot.

He’s done neither.

1-1/2 months he’s been given the benefit of the doubt. License for youthfulness and irresponsibility. Ours is not a bad rapport. Yet it don’t mean shit if there ain’t no follow-through.

Today marks 40 days of James being a Bad Neighbor. Only 4 times in those 40 days has he done what he’s twice promised to do: turn off the fucking swamp cooler!

That’s a 1% success rate. Or 99% failure rate.

How many times does someone need to promise something and not deliver to be called a liar? Unintentional liar perhaps but liar nonetheless.

Migraines

My migraines have shot up exponentially. Up to 3-4 a week. Stress. Shitty sleep.

No home to go to.

No home.

James has taken that from me.

The landlord has taken that from me. By refusing — OUTRIGHT REFUSING — to get that damn cooler repaired!

OR let me get it repaired and PAY FOR IT MYSELF.

My landlord’s immature. Emotionally. She lets emotions blind her from reason and worse her responsibilities as a landlord. Immaturity knows no age. She’s, what, 53? So what. She acts like a troubled teen.

No one’s on my side at home.

I’m gettin’ zero support from James. Or the landlord.

Hence the insomnia. All. Night. Long.

And the Fat Tire. First thing in the morning.

Certain situations make ya wanna drink.

Certain PEOPLE make ya NEED to drink.

Why must people be such shits? When it’s a 100 times easier to do the right thing?

From that, all becomes well.

It’s Saturday, July 9.

James in #8 is promoted from Bad Neighbor to Fucking Bad Neighbor.

Another beer to celebrate his rise, shall we?!

A special thank you to Fat Tire. For being there for me when my neighbor isn’t.

Advertisements

Talk to Me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s