A Piece of My Mind
i sit at work, alone, 7:40 am, because my boss is on holiday in Nicaragua for 5 weeks. this is week 2... so there are a few more to go where i'm the only person here as classes start up in the AM. even though the official heat wave we're about to endure hasn't started yet, it's already becoming bothersome. the office has been toasty the past two mornings when i come in -- east-facing windows be damned. i couldn't sleep last night either... a mix of being hot, bothered, and probably some reaction to cheating the night before --Sunday's sleep had been procured through a half of xanax. it works wonders for me but it'd been so long since i had one of these my body seems to have overreacted after it left my system.
also there's the whole ongoing issue of my living circumstances. a few weeks ago, as i think i'd blogged, the crazy biker chick lesbian neighbor had discovered the squatters to have returned to the vacant property next door. they'd pretty much had open access to that house and i'd resigned myself to that knowledge, and the possibility there was a lot worse than "squatting" going on while i slept 15 feet away. after all our complaints and an ongoing case dating roughly back to november, the city came in at 9 am yesterday and boarded up all the open windows...
well, all but one... and it's probably at least 6 feet off the ground, but i wouldn't put it past someone trying to get through there. at least it will be difficult, right? like everything dealing with this house, peace of mind has been a mirage. shortly before 10, biker chick neighbor came by with a bottle of wine to share. how could i pass up free wine? she makes me a little nervous but i think my 31 almost 32 years has taught me enough about what must make her tick to give me an idea on how to deal with her. she's from Florida. she's partially disabled by tendonitis and freely admits to having ADHD (her rambling conversation style a solid testament to this). she's been a biker chick since probably before i was born, and she doesn't take shit from anybody -- though she's never complained about a thing i've done. you can just tell. everything about her screams, "don't fuck with me fellas!" she describes her dislike of the current neighbors on our north side... don't you hear their music at night? no, i do not actually. although she started the tension there by reporting alpha male skinny hipster dude for abusing his dog (yes, he kind of does, at least verbally), they seem to hate her more than she hates them... although she hates "the girl" the most and doesn't elaborate.
she describes previous tenants at the now infamous squatter house. apparently they were the source of the electronic debris surrounding the property disguised as art. apparently they were also far more obnoxious than anyone else she's had to deal with as one of them was a drummer in a band and liked to practice as late as 2:30 am. but fortunately their capitol hill hipster punk band dreams died with the recession, and they left in such a hurry that it was nearly a fully furnished and unlocked house. the owner is apparently some school principal or administrator yet doesn't seem to care about the condition of the property or the welfare of the rest of us still living in his properties. if he'd just boarded the house up promptly he would have saved the house from the fire, and from an untold but presumably high amount of fines from the city.
upon all this news earlier in the day, i'd gone behind the house for the first time (in my old gardening shoes) to investigate the condition of the property; it is indescribable filth. smell of feces (human or otherwise) in the air, rotting furniture covered in dirty clothing, a beggar's sign pleading for "food not money," and some disturbing drawings of flames on a piece of notebook paper... a few feet away lies a dented, open can of turpentine.
as biker chick talks of "the fire" it occurs to me... they set it on fire. whoever was back there... the crazy one drawing flames on notebook paper.
she continues to ramble about her life experiences... about how she used to be young and fit and how she's gotten old... fat... weak... since she came to Seattle 15 years ago. i look up and notice a rat crawling along a barbed wire fence behind the house to the north... followed by a pair of rats.
the night passes endlessly by in my darkened room, flashing lights of electronic devices in the corner like aircraft on approach, fan blowing against me, but not enough to keep me cool. i toss and turn, thinking about the squatters, wondering if i hear them, (thinking about rats, wondering if i hear them). "you don't think they'll retaliate?" she had asked me. thinking about the beautiful lesbian couple murdered two nights before merely because their windows were open. mine are always closed at night... leading to my physical discomfort. i turn on the a/c and find myself chilled by its fake cold, remembering endless texas summers and wondering why Seattle has felt as hot and as dangerous at night lately. somewhere in the darkest part of the night i fall asleep and have a night terror -- i'm awakening to a smoke filled room, pounding on the wall and fumbling for my bedroom door in the dark. awake, i breathe in a gasp, then out, then in -- no smoke. my heartbeat slows, but i am wide awake again.
6:30 am arrives. having finally slept a couple of hours my body feels relaxed and numb as i throw coffee into my system and prepare to do the ritual of the morning. i wash the eye cream off my face -- does it seem tighter and happier now? despite my lack of proper sleep. birthday approaching. heat wave approaching. i feel tired in so many ways, but nowhere to escape exactly. is it the right weekend to go to the ocean? or will there be hundreds of tourists with screaming children there? all i really want for my birthday is a little peace of mind.