And my nerves are so bad I simply don’t want to deal with her, I”d rather move. And then I called and left a message at the office about her cursing me, and now I told them I want to move, but I CAN’T. I can’t move on my own until I get back to work with a decent job, and I still don’t have one. So that means trying to move, when I’ve just put down 900 dollars is dumb, no, blazingly stupid.
I hope I can undo that!
This is not only my pets, it’s the cost of rents in this area, they’re too high. I’m living dirt cheap and I’m in a slum. It’s a nicer slum, but it’s still South Richmond, and tacky. For the education I have, not the jobs, I should be living better. No go for me. I’m luckless in a lot of things. Perhaps I should work harder to live better? I could you know. My dad has died and that means I am not tied to being available to care for him in his cancer battle. And I have some time, although taking on classes perhaps wasn’t too smart. And my panic attacks are at an all time low. That’s part of the reason I don’t want to deal with an asshole neighbor. That can start my PA’s again. I think her husband is an arsonist! It was this off the wall impression I had of him which, given me, has about a 40 percent chance of being true. To be happy, all I really need is a house with a yard, so I can have space where I can say it’s a neutral zone, and no one can come in. This_is_a_townhome_with_our_doors_side_by_side.
The strangest thing happened to me here before I moved in. I was leaving, after looking things over and planning how I’d try to get my things over here. I was in my parking space, in my car, and I looked up and saw through the slats of the blinds that I’d left my light on in the front bedroom. I SWEAR, it was on. So, I turned my car off, unlocked the front door, and ran upstairs to the room: that damned light was OFF. I don’t know how to explain that one, it’s as if something supernatural took over. Or my brain is shutting down and sending false signals. One of my aunts had Lou Gehrig’s disease, and my dad and grandmother had vascular dementia. Could that be a symptom of either of those? Since then I have wondered if that was some kind of sign that this house wasn’t going to work out. I have intuitions and one of my former friends said that she tended to feel the things that happened in places. And when I finally lived here, I did too. I have the distinct impression that someone who lived here in the past, in the late 70’s when the place was still new, was a cocaine addict. I’ve never done cocaine, btw. I have enough trouble feeling sicker when my docs give me drugs for things. But it was a distinct impression in the first few days I was here. I wonder if they OD’d on cocaine and died? I like to write my intuitions about things down, but I can’t really check to see if any of them pan out. So sad for me!