But I've had a really tough year. I'd say, the toughest yet of my life. And while I am managing to barely hang on to "positive thoughts", "one door opens", "better days ahead", and all the other self-medicating talk that we give ourselves, I can't honestly say that I haven't been a bit tinged with a little more bitterness, suspicion, scepticism, and doubt. An overall more Grinch like part of my personality is making an appearance. Like a really obnoxious and under dressed party guest, a bit amusing for the first minute or two, but you really want them to leave before all the other guests arrive.
If things hadn't been bad enough, I had to meet with my ex-boyfriend on Tuesday so that he could pick up the remainder of things he had left stored at my house. After 5 very long years of living together and many empty promises and empty vodka bottles later, I had told him to leave. Go home, go back to Maine, be with your family get the help you need, and IF you ever get sober, along with a long list of other "ifs", maybe we can get back together. I couldn't quite shut the door all the way. This was five months ago. Guess that was to big of an "if" list for him to work on so he decided to take an easier route. Last week he had the heartlessness to move in with a new woman, my next door neighbor. The one and the same neighbor who just before he left in April, gave me some "co-dependent no more" books to read. "You have to get him out of your life, you will never get better until he is gone." And she was right about that. I was trying to get better with him gone, while she apparently, and successfully, was trying to get him in her bed. A 3000 mile distance was helping. But he is not gone. Not now. Now he is everywhere. And the worst part, is that I spoke with him just two weeks ago and when asked if he was planning to come out here, he replied "Hell no", and when asked if he was involved with the neighbor, his reply was "Hell no". So as much as I hate to admit it, it did sting a bit (a lot) when I first saw him materialize in the front yard, next door. Like an episode of The Haunting. Now, this could be a novel in itself, but I just wanted to give you a tasting, an appetizer so to speak. Point being, this was just one major thing I was dealing with, affecting my nervous system, making me ready to snap.
Then the next evening, talking on the phone to my sister around 6:00 pm (I'll say that again, 6 pm) and all of a sudden I hear my young neighbors upstairs having sex, again, along with the exaggerated moaning, and I must say, I think she is faking. Nobody is that good. Nobody hits it that far out of the ballpark every time! "Pam, I can't believe it, my neighbors are having sex again!" She couldn't believe it either. I mean 6:00 pm, isn't that dinner time (as in food containing calories)? Oh well, whatever.
I was jumpy all night, my mind not letting me rest, I tried to drown myself in the new fall line up on TV. I got in bed at 10 pm and watched "Revenge" - gotta say, I really like the show and am hopeful that I might learn a thing or two as the season progresses. But in the beginning of the very first episode they showed a quote by Confucius, that went something like this; "Before embarking on a journey of revenge, be sure to dig two graves." Ah, yes, so wise. Okay, I get it. Not a good thing - the Gods will pay all those evil people back in due time. So, note to self; don't be building car bombs or breaking neighbors windows anytime soon. But right as I am getting ready to turn the TV off, retire for the night, I hear the moaning, the squeaking, the ridiculousness of it all coming from directly above me, and this time it is starting to piss me off. I'm moving. That's all I can think. There are a number of reasons that might make you want to leave your apartment, an ex-boyfriend literally just feet away and noisy sex-obsessed neighbors. These two reasons top my list.
I drift off to sleep, finally. It is hot. Covers on, covers off. Constant turning of the pillow, turning on different sides, like a rotisserie chicken. I woke at 5:30 am to my upstairs neighbors alarm clock, which took him awhile to shut off, but then his bodily alarm went off, and they were at it again. Like friggin rabbits. Well, this time I wasn't going to take it lying down. I grabbed the closest thing to me that had a little weight to it and wouldn't break. That happened to be one of my cowboy boots. I stood up on the bed and pounded on the ceiling a few times. I wanted to cry. What a pathetic sight this must be. An overwrought, overtired, getting less and less overweight as the weeks go by, over-sensitive middle aged woman looking absolutely ridiculous. They got quiet for a few minutes, and I got new dents in the ceiling. Fair trade off. I could hear the giggling. I really really hate them right now.
Yes, there are things that you can put up with, but at what cost? I realize there are earplugs, white noise machines, restraining orders, closed blinds, closed hearts, and a large assortment of other "avoidance' type remedies I could try. But why do I have to? Geez, I hope I am not addicted to the drama, to all the good writing "material" that comes my way. I really do believe I want some peace, some quiet nights, some great insulation, a good ex-boyfriendless view outside my window, and a brand new place to call home. I mean, I will always have Starbucks, bad drivers, stupid people, politicians, and many other interesting topics to write about, I just don't want them living on all sides of me.