O.M.G.
Sometimes life is such an ass kicker. My day began when I woke up at 9:15 to a text from my boss, asking if I was ready to go on an errand. I should've been at work at 9am. I was in bed, because I'd missed my alarm because I was out cold from the Alka Selzter Sleep aid I'd taken about 9 hours earlier, because I'm sick and trying to get better.
So I got up, with the intent to shower, and was immediately reminded that there was still no heat in my apartment. This was day 5. My chest was tighter than it'd been all week, and I was freezing my balls off, and I was late for work.
And, cue meltdown. I really didn't want to cry about it. I'm not a child, I'm not going to cry because I'm cold, or sick, or late for work. But I did cry, I cried like a four year old. Loud, long, continuous sobs that sounded very much like a cow giving birth. My woes seemed inextricably linked in a giant clusterfuck of why the hell don't I have any heat!?
My apartment situation has been a source of never-ending headache for the past 18 months. First, it was pending eviction, then it was crazy roommates + bedbugs. Then there was the issue of never being able to get a good fit for the small room. Nevermind that the landlord speaks NO English, and everything must be done through his daughter, who's a school teacher and unable to communicate from the hours of 8am to 4pm Monday - Friday, Sept - June. Nevermind all that, right. And the fact that every single thing that needs to be fixed takes nearly a week to get any attention, and once it does get a visit from the repairman, it takes another week to actually get fixed properly.
So I had my cry, then I called my friend Liz and cried to her, and she got me to calm down (and breathe) and offered me her living room to sleep in and get better, and I thanked her, and showered, and went to work.
There, I found my salvation. To throw myself into conquerable, fixable situations that require problem-solving, and which actually adapt and develop when given attention, this is where I thrive and become alive. My apartment used to be that project. Getting to the point in my life where I could say "My Apartment" was a wonderful thing, and it took problem-solving and commitment and I was proud of myself. But that was then. And I am officially over this apartment.
Your home shouldn't make you cry.
Still, if I have to reflect honestly on the day I guess the lesson I walked away with is this:
Life is malleable depending on your mindset. But no matter how powerful and magical your abilities, every now and again the Universe will throw you a hot curve ball of shit (or cold and hard, as the case may be) just to see if you're still paying attention. I mean, if I didn't begin the morning with a good "why me?!" cry, then I wouldn't have been able to finish the day so fully aware of how awesome the people in my life are, or how much I absolutely fucking LOVE my job.
I guess it has to kick your ass just to see if you're still in it, if you still love it. I am, and I do.
But fuck this apartment, bro. Seriously. Fuck it.
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