Three days of having my bubble invaded by repairmen. And three days of having no heat. Finally the furnace is working. Only my water pipes are frozen which means more invasions to get that fixed. Which never would have happened if they’d fixed the furnace in the first fucking place.
I am beyond frustrated.
I feel psychologically raped.
This is my safe space.
Letting others in where they can judge me, my decor (cobwebs are goth,ffs!) and my housekeeping skills(those sabertooth dust bunnies are PETS!)…NOT fun. It’s such a common thing, having repairmen in your home when something is broken…And yet for my psychological make up, it’s the equivalent of stripping down naked in front of a stadium. I just feel exposed. Is it all in my head? I used to entertain that notion until I had a landlord with such fussy housekeeping standards he evicted me in spite of my independent living advisor just having submitted a report to him that she found the place tidy and acceptable.
People can be assholes.
I think the last three days have shown me the best and worst. The landlord contracts with a local heating company for that type work and the guy that came to fix it was a younger guy I’ve dealt with before. I like him, he is pleasant, understands how hard it is to get the landlord to spring for repairs here, and he has a kid, so he understood why I was so pissed off and freaked out about the heat. He did repair it yesterday. But an hour later, another part failed. Not his fault, not my fault. It’s a thirty year old furnace, ffs. And he told me the landlord hemmed and hawed over having to spring for a new control board for it. THIRTY years old and you think it needing fixed once is unreasonable? While you drive forty thousand dollar vehicles, live in a three hundred thousand dollar house, and have collected sixteen grand in rent from me for the last six years???? REALLY?
When I found out the furnace was down again yesterday I called the landlord at 2:30 pm. He said he’d send Jason right back over.
It didn’t happen. I called right before the office closed, no answer.
Another night freezing our asses off. We did have space heaters but my primary concern was the pipes bursting once frozen.
I waited. And I waited.
I seethed and stewed. They have no “after hours” emergency number for tenants to call so you’re just fucked until office hours.
This morning I called, furious and in a panic. The snotty office girl asks why I didn’t call sooner. I told her I did, she said well we close at 5. Then who the fuck was I supposed to call? The landlord called me personally after I spoke with her, explained with some song and dance that he’d talked to the heating guy who said he didn’t feel it required a second call so he was acting on their info.
Yeah, I have ice crystals on my spleen but because it worked for an hour, I am totally being histrionic and it was a nuisance call.
To their credit, Jason returned promptly, but his boss was with him this time and I was like, of fuck, I got him in trouble with his the boss. The furnace was working when he left yesterday, it just quit again.
Turns out this time the motor was shot.
And his boss informed me they didn’t get the call to fix it until 4:30. at which point the landlord decided it was working earlier so didn’t warrant immediate concern. I called him at 2:30.
He blamed the heating guys for dropping the ball.
They say he never called them.
I am inclined to believe them ‘cos I know how things work here. I was once told, “You never complain or ask for repairs, you’re our favorite tenant.” Which sent the message that if I did demand repairs, I would be on the tenant shit list.
I like my home here when things work right. And heat, when it hit one degree overnight, is not a frivolous concern. To have it so summarily dismissed and ignored still infuriates me. I have a child. I’ve never once paid rent late. I cause no problems. I deserve better than dismissal and excuses.
Needless to say, the furnace is working and it will take awhile but I can tell it is heating up slowly.
Now I just have to wait til the godly maintenance men decide my not having water is important enough to deal with. You’d think this being the landlord’s property not having those pipes burst requiring an entire overhaul in the plumbing would be in his best interest.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
I am at the mercy of others.
This does not bring out the best in me.
In fact, my anxiety has gone batshit crazy. It’s like my life has been on hold for three days because I am cold, I am on hold waiting for the repair guys, I am…In hellish anxiety limbo.
I wish I weren’t this way. But I am, and was, even when living with others and their landlords invading my space for repairs. I am a solitary private person. I don’t welcome intrusion into my safe bubble. It is my one place in the world I feel safe, that is crucial for me.
One more grrrrr of frustration.
Otherwise…My moods seem to be holding ok even though I forgot to take my meds for three days. That is not my norm, that is me on anxiety and stress overload. Plus my kid has been channeling Satan with blatant defiance and putting me more on edge. That child scares the hell out of me. She will get so mad she sits there and hits herself in the head and face. I fear being blamed for her outbursts. And yes, I have had talk after talk,as have others, with her about healthier ways to show anger and frustration.
Last week, she took a swing at me.
It’s bizarre how I have zero issues with her at school or with other adults and yet with me, she becomes this little tasmanian devil.
My mom says, “You can’t even get along with your own kid.”
The common denominator in every disagreement with my child is me using the word “no.” Kids need limits. They don’t want them or like them but they need them. I am being an adult, being the parent.
My mom wouldn’t get that because she was “yes” mom. She wanted to be our friend and not have us mad at her so she was permissible and we walked on her like a doormat. I don’t want to be that kind of mother.
So I get to deal with a kid who lashes out violently, against me and herself, when I draw boundaries.
It’s bizarre simply because as long as I say ok, she is a really good kid.
And so smart. She is reading nightly (short simplistic things but still, she wants to read and she tries hard.) I have even been teaching her cursive writing, not because I think a 5 year old needs it but because she saw my writing that way and asked me to teach her.
She’s truly the Jeckyll/Hyde child.
I’m not backing down though. No is a word she is going to hear a lot even as a grown up, she needs to learn to accept it.
Now I wait for the next intrusion and it will probably be by “pro cat killer” handyman. That is a stress I don’t want or need. But gotta have water.
The last three days have been shit.
And my own neurotic behaviors are as much to blame as shitty luck of stuff breaking down. I am aware of this and I am trying to suck it up and deal. Mental issues don’t dissipate just because you’re sucking it up, though. There is always going to be fall out.
So those are my adventures in anxiety and I am glad I got my fingers thawed out enough to type and vent it all cos it was eating me alive. When anxiety and frustration turn to primal scream anger….
Purge is needed.
If you made it through this whole rant…Hats off to you.
If not…I don’t blame you.
This is my life, my mind.
I just can’t click the window closed and say “Ugh, not again.”
How I wish I could.