Apologies, complaints, and thanks
1. Dear Sam and Dean: I'm sorry I won't be able to watch you until something God-awful like Friday afternoon or possibly even Saturday morning. I have a good excuse though. I'm seeing AC/DC in concert tonight. I'm sure you'll understand.
Apologies, con't...
2. Dear My LJ Friends: I'm sorry I've been utter crap at keeping up with you all. Many of you have been making Big Important Life Posts. I've been reading them, I just haven't been able to come up with anything wise or interesting to say in response. And for those of you who have been posting fic-I despair of ever keeping up. It's not you, it's me.
3. Dear Friend Who Emailed Me This Week and Got a Resounding Silence in Response: I'm sorry. You know how you sometimes admit to being self-absorbed, and occasionally apologize for maybe not being willing/able to deal with your friends' problems? That's me this week.
4. Dear My Inner 12-Year-Old: I'm sorry I keep telling you you're fat.
5. Dear My Current-Age Self: I'm sorry I keep telling you you're fat, too. I'll try to feed you better as soon as I can afford to go to the grocery store again. Maybe we can go for a brisk walk or two this weekend, get you some exercise.
Complaints Department
1. Dear My Fellow Condo Board Members: Here's a pointer. Telling people who are having trouble coming up with $2,000 in special assessments that if they can't get their hands on $2,000 in the course of four months, they probably don't have any business being homeowners isn't actually going to make them more able to come up with the money or feel any friendlier toward the board or you personally. Yes, fine, I managed to come up with my share and pay on time, but I have put myself back into fairly deep credit card debt in order to to do so and continue to, like, feed myself and my cats and pay my other bills. I'm not saying these people shouldn't have to pay like the rest of us did; I'm just saying that being bitchy and judgmental about it doesn't help. I know. I'm one of those people who never should have bought, and I wish fervently every day that I hadn't. And I guarantee you that the poor woman with the adjustable rate mortgage in 501-3, who is clearly a few months away from foreclosure, knows exactly what a bad choice it was and wishes she had made a different one.
2. Dear My Condo's Management Company: You people are the worst accountants I've ever encountered. You've told me two different amounts for my special assessment, and I found out on Tuesday that the latest one-the one I paid-is more than any of the people in the larger units paid. Which is ass-backwards, because our amounts were to be based on percent owned. I'm in the smallest set of units (other than the garden unit), and after digging through all my paperwork, I'm sure that I've overpaid my porch assessment by $100. And, you know, I freaking called you the instant I saw the higher number and asked you about it, and you said you'd look into it and let me know if the first amount had been incorrect but never did. It was nice talking to your receptionist this morning; I will be (politely) calling her three times a week until I get a straight answer out of someone.
3. Dear Well-Meaning People Who Told Me How Much Smarter Owning Is Than Renting: My mortgage insurance, assessments, special assessments, and property taxes total more than double the break I get on my Federal taxes for being a homeowner. I curse myself for listening to you and thinking about how great it would be to not have to deal with a landlord ever again.
4. Dear My Fanboy Boyfriend: I adore you. I really do. I think you're smart and funny and sexy, and I pretty much want to spend tons of my time with you. But you know how you keep saying we can stay at my place sometimes? We never do. I know your neighborhood is cooler and more fun than mine. I prefer yours, too. If I had my druthers, I'd ditch this money pit and rent a cute one-bedroom in or around your neighborhood. But that's not going to happen any time soon. And in the meantime, I have spent one half of two Saturdays at my house since late August, either because I've been traveling or have been at your place.
Every time I ask if you want to come here instead, you point out how much more there is to do in your neighborhood, say you need some time to just veg out, or something else along those lines. The topper for me is when you get clingy Sunday nights and ask me to stay, but then when I point out why I can't (cats need food and water and love, I need work clothes, etc.) and invite you to come stay at my place (where there is an L that goes within four blocks of your work), you say you're sorry to be selfish, but that you really prefer your own commute, which is more convenient to you and allows you to get more sleep.
Because here's the thing. Your to-work commute, which I take every time that I stay at your place during the week (thing that you've never done at my place) takes 20 minutes longer than mine and because we start later, gets me to work at 9 rather than 8:15, which means I have to make up that 45 minutes along with the time I already have to make up because of counseling and class. Any time I come to your place before or after work, I lug two days worth of clothes on the train with me. My point? I guess it's just that once in a while it would be nice if you let yourself be inconvenienced.
It's really hard for me to tell you or ask you any of this, for various reasons having to do with early childhood trauma and family fucked-uppedness and my experiences with Evil Boyfriends Past. I know I need to, and I need to do it calmly and rationally. And I also need to try to work on not feeling that I have to somehow make up for the fact that your job appears to pay approximately twice what mine does and therefore you are in a position to constantly, generously, and unbegrudgingly buy me dinner and concert tickets and the like. None of this means I can't ask you for the occasional night at my place. I know this. It's just hard to follow through on that knowledge.
And a couple of thank-you notes, which I'll leave outside the cut because make me really happy
1. Dear My Children's Materials Professor: Thank you for getting all excited last night when I asked you which part of the summer term you were going to be teaching your Literacy class so I could plan my (theoretical) vacation around it. I can't tell you how good it made me feel to have you say you'd love to have me in class again. You are my librarian hero and are fast becoming a personal hero, and I kinda want to take every single class you teach, ever, and maybe just follow you around indefinitely so I can be just like you when I grow up.
2. Dear Megan and Jessie: Thank you for listening, and, you know. Just thanks.
Apologies, con't...
2. Dear My LJ Friends: I'm sorry I've been utter crap at keeping up with you all. Many of you have been making Big Important Life Posts. I've been reading them, I just haven't been able to come up with anything wise or interesting to say in response. And for those of you who have been posting fic-I despair of ever keeping up. It's not you, it's me.
3. Dear Friend Who Emailed Me This Week and Got a Resounding Silence in Response: I'm sorry. You know how you sometimes admit to being self-absorbed, and occasionally apologize for maybe not being willing/able to deal with your friends' problems? That's me this week.
4. Dear My Inner 12-Year-Old: I'm sorry I keep telling you you're fat.
5. Dear My Current-Age Self: I'm sorry I keep telling you you're fat, too. I'll try to feed you better as soon as I can afford to go to the grocery store again. Maybe we can go for a brisk walk or two this weekend, get you some exercise.
Complaints Department
1. Dear My Fellow Condo Board Members: Here's a pointer. Telling people who are having trouble coming up with $2,000 in special assessments that if they can't get their hands on $2,000 in the course of four months, they probably don't have any business being homeowners isn't actually going to make them more able to come up with the money or feel any friendlier toward the board or you personally. Yes, fine, I managed to come up with my share and pay on time, but I have put myself back into fairly deep credit card debt in order to to do so and continue to, like, feed myself and my cats and pay my other bills. I'm not saying these people shouldn't have to pay like the rest of us did; I'm just saying that being bitchy and judgmental about it doesn't help. I know. I'm one of those people who never should have bought, and I wish fervently every day that I hadn't. And I guarantee you that the poor woman with the adjustable rate mortgage in 501-3, who is clearly a few months away from foreclosure, knows exactly what a bad choice it was and wishes she had made a different one.
2. Dear My Condo's Management Company: You people are the worst accountants I've ever encountered. You've told me two different amounts for my special assessment, and I found out on Tuesday that the latest one-the one I paid-is more than any of the people in the larger units paid. Which is ass-backwards, because our amounts were to be based on percent owned. I'm in the smallest set of units (other than the garden unit), and after digging through all my paperwork, I'm sure that I've overpaid my porch assessment by $100. And, you know, I freaking called you the instant I saw the higher number and asked you about it, and you said you'd look into it and let me know if the first amount had been incorrect but never did. It was nice talking to your receptionist this morning; I will be (politely) calling her three times a week until I get a straight answer out of someone.
3. Dear Well-Meaning People Who Told Me How Much Smarter Owning Is Than Renting: My mortgage insurance, assessments, special assessments, and property taxes total more than double the break I get on my Federal taxes for being a homeowner. I curse myself for listening to you and thinking about how great it would be to not have to deal with a landlord ever again.
4. Dear My Fanboy Boyfriend: I adore you. I really do. I think you're smart and funny and sexy, and I pretty much want to spend tons of my time with you. But you know how you keep saying we can stay at my place sometimes? We never do. I know your neighborhood is cooler and more fun than mine. I prefer yours, too. If I had my druthers, I'd ditch this money pit and rent a cute one-bedroom in or around your neighborhood. But that's not going to happen any time soon. And in the meantime, I have spent one half of two Saturdays at my house since late August, either because I've been traveling or have been at your place.
Every time I ask if you want to come here instead, you point out how much more there is to do in your neighborhood, say you need some time to just veg out, or something else along those lines. The topper for me is when you get clingy Sunday nights and ask me to stay, but then when I point out why I can't (cats need food and water and love, I need work clothes, etc.) and invite you to come stay at my place (where there is an L that goes within four blocks of your work), you say you're sorry to be selfish, but that you really prefer your own commute, which is more convenient to you and allows you to get more sleep.
Because here's the thing. Your to-work commute, which I take every time that I stay at your place during the week (thing that you've never done at my place) takes 20 minutes longer than mine and because we start later, gets me to work at 9 rather than 8:15, which means I have to make up that 45 minutes along with the time I already have to make up because of counseling and class. Any time I come to your place before or after work, I lug two days worth of clothes on the train with me. My point? I guess it's just that once in a while it would be nice if you let yourself be inconvenienced.
It's really hard for me to tell you or ask you any of this, for various reasons having to do with early childhood trauma and family fucked-uppedness and my experiences with Evil Boyfriends Past. I know I need to, and I need to do it calmly and rationally. And I also need to try to work on not feeling that I have to somehow make up for the fact that your job appears to pay approximately twice what mine does and therefore you are in a position to constantly, generously, and unbegrudgingly buy me dinner and concert tickets and the like. None of this means I can't ask you for the occasional night at my place. I know this. It's just hard to follow through on that knowledge.
And a couple of thank-you notes, which I'll leave outside the cut because make me really happy
1. Dear My Children's Materials Professor: Thank you for getting all excited last night when I asked you which part of the summer term you were going to be teaching your Literacy class so I could plan my (theoretical) vacation around it. I can't tell you how good it made me feel to have you say you'd love to have me in class again. You are my librarian hero and are fast becoming a personal hero, and I kinda want to take every single class you teach, ever, and maybe just follow you around indefinitely so I can be just like you when I grow up.
2. Dear Megan and Jessie: Thank you for listening, and, you know. Just thanks.