I haven't written anything worth shit lately, and I'm not sure why. I guess I'm just cranky. But anyway the news:
No surprises on the psychologist front. He turned out to be a moron after all. We immediately hated each other, and I'm pretty sure that's why he charged me so much. I wasn't precisely extra-nice to him, but hey, I mean, it's his JOB to bear with me; he's the one that gets paid. When I was teaching I also sometimes got students who I utterly disliked but I never mistreated them because I always held in mind they were the ones putting food on my plate. Soon we got into the attacking each other dynamic and well, it all went downhill from there. The good news is I won't be seeing him anymore. The bad news is, now I hate pshychologists a whole lot more. They're assholes, each and every one of them.
Arwen has already packed everything (or so she says) and will move out this weekend. Back to her mother's house, I think. This isn't the way I would have wanted this to happen, but now I know this is nobody's fault but hers. I mean, she had plenty of time. We told her about the move more than a month ago. The only thing that worries me, though, is that I know she packed plenty of things of mine (CDs, books, clothes) with her things. And the other day, when I mentioned to her we should go over all of our things to separate them before moving she got a bit touchy. Well, not a bit; she screamed hell about how I always thought she was trying to steal from me. It's not like that, and fuck, she knows it. I just know how she doesn't care a bit about taking my things because she thinks it's OK. And I do care, because although I know she's not trying to steal from me consciously, I am positive that I won't see any of that stuff again if she takes it. Anyway, the other day we almost got into a fight because I told her I was sick of her playing the victim and I wouldn't have it anymore. We ended up not fighting because as always, she realized she was wrong and shut up and sulked around the house for about an hour, and then started talking to me as usual, as if nothing had happened. I played along with her. We both are avoiding a direct confrontation, I know, she because she knows she's got the lower hand, and I because I know this all be over soon. But sometimes it's very difficult, especially when Belendor is not around to mediate and she gets all bitchy and whining. Yesterday I would have killed her if Belendor had not been around. She took a shower, the drain clogged, and she just took the mesh out of the drain (all hairy and all) and went on showering. When she finished, she left it there. Of course, when I arrived to the house, it all stank of shit because the drain was open. I don't know what she's thinking. I have told her about cleaning that fucking drain not once, not twice, but about a million times, and she just doesn't care. Maybe she thinks there's some sort of Drain Fairy that comes along and cleans the drain every time she leaves it out. And in the meantime I have been pulling wet, stinky hairclots out of the drain for more than a year now. I mean, I know some of that hair is mine, but why do I always have to be the one that cleans it? I'm not the only one that lives here.
Anyway, I try to calm down by thinking it will be over soon... but sometimes it's difficult not to throttle her. Sheesh...
She was my best friend, I sometimes still regard her as such, but if this goes on I won't want to have anything to do with her... I'm rather sorry. I don't have that many friends. To tell the truth, she's my only friend. But as a roommate she stinks.
More about the moving. I just don't know where I stand. The real state company keeps asking for our tax returns. I don't know why they fucking need them since we are going to pay for the whole year in advance, but it seems it's a necessary evil. We have kept calling our no-good accountant, but he hasn't shown up at all. I don't know which I hate the most, psychologists or accountants. They both suck big time. I think I hate accountants more because, whereas I can live without a psychologists, I cannot live without an accountant. Once we tried to figure out how to do the tax returns by ourselves, and (a) we didn't understand jack shit, (b) half of our brain-cells died in the process. Anyway, and back to the moving subject, we are not even sure when his parents are gonna move out after all. It may be sometime next week, or the week after, but it also may be that they won't move until mid-March. So I'm stunned. I haven't packed anything, I haven't made arrangements with the moving company, we haven't paid the rent for this apartment, nothing. To top things with, we have an outrageous electricity bill to pay. And I mean, outrageous. Seems we are paying for the lights of the whole block. And I'm not kidding. We must pay it, unless we want to spend our last couple of weeks here in the dark. Hateful.
Belendor is still sick, but I think he just wants to be pampered. I swear, he's up and around and happy, but everytime I ask him, "Your feeling better, aren't you?", he immediately goes "Cough, cough, ahem, ehem, cough, arghhh.... uh... I guess...." It's kind of funny, actually.
On the good news, I've been feeling OK. I finished the book over the weekend, and I plan to write a review on each of the stories, but I haven't had the time. I have to second-read it to do it, and I haven't even started. But it is really quite good. King has mellowed over the years, but in a good way. Blood still splashes out when you open the book, but not so much, and there are better stories to support it. No moving finger here, thanks.
Going back to work now.
No surprises on the psychologist front. He turned out to be a moron after all. We immediately hated each other, and I'm pretty sure that's why he charged me so much. I wasn't precisely extra-nice to him, but hey, I mean, it's his JOB to bear with me; he's the one that gets paid. When I was teaching I also sometimes got students who I utterly disliked but I never mistreated them because I always held in mind they were the ones putting food on my plate. Soon we got into the attacking each other dynamic and well, it all went downhill from there. The good news is I won't be seeing him anymore. The bad news is, now I hate pshychologists a whole lot more. They're assholes, each and every one of them.
Arwen has already packed everything (or so she says) and will move out this weekend. Back to her mother's house, I think. This isn't the way I would have wanted this to happen, but now I know this is nobody's fault but hers. I mean, she had plenty of time. We told her about the move more than a month ago. The only thing that worries me, though, is that I know she packed plenty of things of mine (CDs, books, clothes) with her things. And the other day, when I mentioned to her we should go over all of our things to separate them before moving she got a bit touchy. Well, not a bit; she screamed hell about how I always thought she was trying to steal from me. It's not like that, and fuck, she knows it. I just know how she doesn't care a bit about taking my things because she thinks it's OK. And I do care, because although I know she's not trying to steal from me consciously, I am positive that I won't see any of that stuff again if she takes it. Anyway, the other day we almost got into a fight because I told her I was sick of her playing the victim and I wouldn't have it anymore. We ended up not fighting because as always, she realized she was wrong and shut up and sulked around the house for about an hour, and then started talking to me as usual, as if nothing had happened. I played along with her. We both are avoiding a direct confrontation, I know, she because she knows she's got the lower hand, and I because I know this all be over soon. But sometimes it's very difficult, especially when Belendor is not around to mediate and she gets all bitchy and whining. Yesterday I would have killed her if Belendor had not been around. She took a shower, the drain clogged, and she just took the mesh out of the drain (all hairy and all) and went on showering. When she finished, she left it there. Of course, when I arrived to the house, it all stank of shit because the drain was open. I don't know what she's thinking. I have told her about cleaning that fucking drain not once, not twice, but about a million times, and she just doesn't care. Maybe she thinks there's some sort of Drain Fairy that comes along and cleans the drain every time she leaves it out. And in the meantime I have been pulling wet, stinky hairclots out of the drain for more than a year now. I mean, I know some of that hair is mine, but why do I always have to be the one that cleans it? I'm not the only one that lives here.
Anyway, I try to calm down by thinking it will be over soon... but sometimes it's difficult not to throttle her. Sheesh...
She was my best friend, I sometimes still regard her as such, but if this goes on I won't want to have anything to do with her... I'm rather sorry. I don't have that many friends. To tell the truth, she's my only friend. But as a roommate she stinks.
More about the moving. I just don't know where I stand. The real state company keeps asking for our tax returns. I don't know why they fucking need them since we are going to pay for the whole year in advance, but it seems it's a necessary evil. We have kept calling our no-good accountant, but he hasn't shown up at all. I don't know which I hate the most, psychologists or accountants. They both suck big time. I think I hate accountants more because, whereas I can live without a psychologists, I cannot live without an accountant. Once we tried to figure out how to do the tax returns by ourselves, and (a) we didn't understand jack shit, (b) half of our brain-cells died in the process. Anyway, and back to the moving subject, we are not even sure when his parents are gonna move out after all. It may be sometime next week, or the week after, but it also may be that they won't move until mid-March. So I'm stunned. I haven't packed anything, I haven't made arrangements with the moving company, we haven't paid the rent for this apartment, nothing. To top things with, we have an outrageous electricity bill to pay. And I mean, outrageous. Seems we are paying for the lights of the whole block. And I'm not kidding. We must pay it, unless we want to spend our last couple of weeks here in the dark. Hateful.
Belendor is still sick, but I think he just wants to be pampered. I swear, he's up and around and happy, but everytime I ask him, "Your feeling better, aren't you?", he immediately goes "Cough, cough, ahem, ehem, cough, arghhh.... uh... I guess...." It's kind of funny, actually.
On the good news, I've been feeling OK. I finished the book over the weekend, and I plan to write a review on each of the stories, but I haven't had the time. I have to second-read it to do it, and I haven't even started. But it is really quite good. King has mellowed over the years, but in a good way. Blood still splashes out when you open the book, but not so much, and there are better stories to support it. No moving finger here, thanks.
Going back to work now.
posted by gaby san at
2/11/2003 01:37:00 PM
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