I am on the verge of a temper tantrum. I ended up working 5 hours of overtime Thursday night, got home late, the landlord's electrical person had been in my apartment, without me knowing beforehand, locked the door when he left (which I hate, I never lock my door and don't carry key), left the heater cranked up to 70 so dinky apartment is like death valley on a hot day, the electrical box is open as in cover removed, an extra hole in wall with lovely assortment of tools and stuff pile with note on top saying he will return on Friday. Which in theory is the first day of my weekend and I was hoping to sleep in. I got home at 11 pm and had to work the late shift that night in addition to my regular shift. Aside from the invasion of my personal space, I was lazy that morning didn't make bed or wash dishes from dinner or breakast, left out my budgetting stuff on kitchen table and general disorder and disarray. Did I mention the romantic novel I was reading was also left out and clearly visible...I read maybe, maybe one of these novels every five years and I am embarrassed to be busted doing so. I can't sleep in on Friday, my place is so small there is nowhere to be while a STRANGER is in my house. In fact my place is so small that the only people I want in my space are my closest or most intimate friends. So, I wonder off and go hiking in the pouring rain which I usually like but am grumpy about on principle. I had to go to work to deal with a BFD thing in the late afternoon didn't get done until 9 pm. Come home, door locked again, tools out, heat up. Oh, well, thinks I, play chess, watch movie, go to bed sleep in and catch up on sleep. Wake up on Saturday, the electrician guy took hint (do not disturb note on door) didn't wake me up but locked door to laundry room. So, now, I get to pack up my laundry, haul down 3 flights of stairs and up a hill to car and then to laundry mat. I think, okay, make breakfast first. Did I mention it has been a two weeks and half since my last grocery trip. I have some cashews, carrots, snowpeas and joy of joy half a chocolate bar. I want to be 3 years old and throw myself on the floor, and kick and scream and cry but I am an ADULT. Expletive #%$&*@ deleted!!! Construction (didn't know there were like 3 guys wandering through my apartment and now feeling even more invaded) guy shows up knows nothing about lock. So, carry minimal clothes to get through week down stairs and up hill and to car and then laundry mat. First washer throws fit decides not to work mid way through. Move clothes. I want to throw a fit and be a royal female dog (appologies to my female dog) but manage to be civil to the attendent while we play musical washers. I get laundry done, go home and I can hear loud construction noises from my apartment up on hillside and decide I am serious danger of doing bodily harm if annoyed any furrther. Well, my office will be quiet...Go to work. Get something done, thinks I. Some days one should not be permitted to think. Co-worker in another part of facility which does several different things asks me to go get van from airport a short walk through muskeg. No problem, easy walk and pretty trail. Walking along...trail is very wet, but it is muskeg and we have had lots of rain. No biggie, just be careful as I carefully step out and sink down to my knees and pitch over into icy cold water. Did I mention that it is a balmy 40 degress F? Get up and wade through water to my waist, continue to airport collect van...I have no money with me. Credit card works. Take van back to shop, find old sweatsuit and I am now washing and drying clothes in daycare and hanging out in office. I am better now...Thanks for listening.
Sympathy is good, rough day stories are good. No advice, please. I have spoken with contractor set some limits, written letter to landlord and set some more limits.
Originally posted by Aynathere's a hug and some cookies :-)
I am on the verge of a temper tantrum. I ended up working 5 hours of overtime Thursday night, got home late, the landlord's electrical person had been in my apartment, without me knowing beforehand, locked the door when he left (which I hate, I never lock my door and don't carry key), left the heater cranked up to 70 so dinky apartment is like death valley o ...[text shortened]... ave spoken with contractor set some limits, written letter to landlord and set some more limits.
