To be honest I'm scared to leave the house today, which is what led me to google searching for images of Sigourney Weaver in Copycat; my favorite agoraphobia based thriller.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, thanks to my upstairs neighbor. He has a history of sounding like he's either moving furniture or getting shaken down by the mob during the tender moments just before daybreak. I know what it's like to live in the upstairs unit and have crazy people downstairs complain about noises you don't think you're making, so I usually try to avoid saying anything about it to him. This morning I decided to go to starbucks to avoid the issue, thinking he would be gone by the time I got back.
On my way to starbucks I got cut off by a guy who didn't realize I was going slow because the car in front of me was turning right. No sooner did he cut me off then he had to swerve back in to the middle lane, then I watched as he pulled in to starbucks.
I couldn't resist the urge and ended up commenting on his driving, and oh did we get in to it. The people of starbucks were quietly chuckling at our exchange. I just don't understand people who shit where they sleep. I drive like an asshole too sometimes but not when I'm about to pull in to a starbucks where I could potentially get confronted by somebody that I just cut off moments before.
Of course I get back to the apt just as my upstairs neighbor is leaving his place. I was still raging from starbucks and couldn't hold back with him. At one point Heather, having heard my voice, opened her door with a smile on her face that quickly changed to a look of terror when she saw my hulk rage. I think I glared at her once before she quietly closed the door and retreated to safety.
After having my coffee, working out, and taking a shower I was starting to feel more like myself, which meant I was starting to have remorse for my morning rampage. No sooner had I told Heather that I felt bad for yelling at the upstairs neighbor when who should pull in but the man himself. I intended to try and smooth things over, the conversation went something like this:
Me: Hey I'm sorry for raging at you this morning.
Him: No man, I would too, it sucks. I don't know what it could be that makes so much noise, it must be either my ironing board or maybe the drawers of my armoir when I pull them out.
Me: Is your armoir just sitting on the floor?
Him: Yeah, as opposed to what?
Me: Well I mean is it on a rug or is it sitting directly on the tile?
Him: It's directly on the tile, there's nothing I can do about that.
(ummmmm, you could put it on a rug)
Him: How are you still here? Do you ever work?
(...yes...at night...which is why it sucks to get woken up at 7 every morning...)
Me: Yes, actually I'm on my way now.
At which point I went in to my apt before the rage bubbled to the surface again. Which brings me to the point of all this, I am scared to go to work tonight. I feel like something is going to happen on my drive to work, or I am going to get in to it with a customer some how. Something's going down today and I'm scared.
Wish me luck.
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