I’ve been up since 3:30 this morning. Kill me now.

Been up since 3:30 this morning.
A result of an unexpected (and foolish) descent into sleep sometime between 11:00 and 11:30 p.m. last night.
No sleeping pills either.
Doesn’t seem to matter.
Sleep pills = 4.5 to 5 hours of sleep.
No sleeping pills = 2 to 4 hours of sleep.

When I’m awake it’s all over. Can’t sleep no more no how.
So I sit in bed watching a show on History entitled The States. Actually caught the one on Nevada. The writers seemed to deem the correct pronunciation of our state of major importance.
This has been an ongoing sore spot for native Nevadans for years.
You know what I say? Who the hell cares.
Tomato tomaaaato. Let the inflectives fall where they may.
Was a bit suspicious about the seeming importance of Vegas that was put in the piece.
Oh c’mon. Reno was first with legal gambling casinos, 24 hour liquor, 60 day divorces with no criteria required and legal prostitution.
Vegas? Ha. Newcomers. Poseurs.

Okay. I didn’t really care all that much. It wasn’t even 4:00 am yet.
Think I’ll spend the next week purposely pronouncing Nevada with the long ‘a’ as in ‘ah’ opposed to Nevada with the ‘a’ pronounced as in cat.
Just to agitate people.
Oh shit. I already do that. Agitate people I mean.

So, I had coffee about 4:00 and decided that vacuuming was out of the question. Wouldn’t want to wake the Cock Sucker Elephant Family upstairs.
Oh didn’t you know? They’ve been upgraded! No comps yet but soon. Maybe I should send them to Vegas. They’re the folks formerly known simply as The Elephant Family.

On Saturday morning said elephants were vacuuming and moving around 50 gallon barrels (filled with cinder blocks) at 7:38 in the morning.
Yes kids. These are the same swine who complained about my music two weeks ago.
The music from the speakers on my computer. Not my stereo.
At 9:00 in the evening.

Must not kill neighbors. Bad for the Karma doncha know.
So about 6:00 the coffee kicks in and I decide that the time has come to clear out the Demon Seed’s room. The Room Of Doom, Storage, and Un-navigable, Unmitigated Fear.
Waited until 10:00 to run the vacuum. That’s the kind of responsible and stylin’ neighbor I am.

Finished the entire room at 3:00 this afternoon.
Tell ’em what they’ve accomplished!

1. Compacted six boxes of antique china, daughter’s no-long-prized-possessions and holiday decorations into 2 extant holiday boxes and two extant other boxes-o-crap-that-cannot-be discarded.
2. Completely emptied the bedroom out into the hallway and living room. Vacuumed, dusted and then re-stacked every last box, bin, storage rack and piece of furniture in there. There are a lot of them. I currently live in a tiny two bedroom apartment but have lived in large homes up until 2 years ago.
3. Re-arranged the shelving units and re-stacked the boxes. Broke down the boxes I didn’t need anymore and hauled them to the dumpster out back.
4. Re-assembled my daughter’s bed and made it up. Manhandled the frame, mattress, box springs and dressers. They are now accessible.
5. Drank an entire pot of coffee
6. Took a xanax.
7. Listened to some great new tunes by The New Pornographers. I highly recommend their tune Letter From An Occupant. The lead singer reminds me of Little Nell from Rocky Horror, who played Columbia.
8. Vacuumed again.
9. Yelled at Lizzie Borden to stay the fuck out of the newly clean and cleared out room

Yeah sure, it’s still cramped. I need a basement or a storage unit or a garage or a friggin house thank you very much. In the interim I DO have my daughter’s room into a semblance of order and she can sleep in her own bed on the next visit.
Sure she’s surrounded by towering plastic shelving units of boxes, a bicycle, several enormous plastic bins, enough suitcases for the Partridge Family, two floor lamps and miscellaneous computer peripherals.
The point is: she can get through the damned door, open the dresser drawers and get into her closet.
My work here is done.

I’m taking some of the back benefits from social security and buying her a ticket out here for Spring Break. She’ll be here with me all summer but damn I miss her and don’t want to wait that long. The evil little thing.
A chip off the old blockette.

Party on Garth.
Oh yeah, and pass the ibuprofen. My fucking back and wrists are killing me.
I need a hot relaxing bath but I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna scrub out the tub after nine hours of hauling around heavy boxes and furniture.
Oh Garcon! More Xanax please. Did you say one of tonight’s specials was the vicodin? I’ll also have two of those please.
Shaken not stirred.

~Miss R

8 thoughts on “I’ve been up since 3:30 this morning. Kill me now.

  1. How parallel our lives are.

    I too live beneath a family of Clydesdales. No other mammal on the planet can make that kind of cacophony OTHER than a fucking thundering herd of Clydesdales with hooves the comparable girth of manhole covers. They run from room too room at all hours of the day and night and they also use some sort of hack saw or drill, no doubt to dismember the torsos.
    And they drop shit…hard. I’ve had framed artwork dislodge from the wall because of this.

    I’ve left notes; I’ve reported them to mgmt. , I banged on the walls and ceilings and to no avail. They are apparently a family of deaf Clydesdales as well.

    I too take Xanax to deal with it. Then again, I take another Xanax to deal with the fact that I felt compelled to take a Xanax in the first place.

    Pharmacological guilt….love it.

    Time to take another ZanBar. Apparently, Daddy Clydesdale has to take a leak and that requires a mad sprint from the master bedroom to the bathroom. The fucker walks with torque.



  2. oh god laurie!
    you DO feel my pain. clydesdales yes.
    i must have been blessed these past years. all of the years in nyc and then here in reno i’ve never heard such a fucking nightmare of noise.
    oy fucking vey.

    i friggin laughed my ass off at your description of your neighbors taking a piss.

    piss on the horse’s of the fucking apocalypse.. .piss on.

    alright max… how did you find an apartment building without such cretinous eeediotiots????


  3. Well I lived at the loft from hell before I got here and before that with the lunatic roommates and before that with the lunatic [armed] landlord so I sort of paid my dues. [You have not lived till you are woken in your bedroom at 7 am by your deranged off his head on drugs landlord waving a gun around shouting about how he is going to kill the maintenance guy for having gay sex in his studio. Also you just are not sure saying maybe he should not be in your bedroom at 7 am while you are half clothed is correct landlord behavior because, well he is waving a gun around so maybe etiquette reminders are an inappropriate response.]


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