Monday, September 05, 2005

I moved out of the place I was subletting. It was a fucking nightmare. I can't possibly make you understand without reliving it. It took several days and I'm still reeling financially and emotionally. After cleaning the place all day and all night, the woman I subletted from ran her fingers along a baseboard behind her bed and after coming up with a finger-full of dust she announced, "I cannot live like this". She called in professional cleaners and demanded that I pay for them. And sure, why not? I'm a very wealthy woman, what with my lock out pay keeping me in cristal and gucci as the "rapsters" (my mother's term) say. Allow me to mention, that the subletter is an actual wealthy woman. Quite wealthy. She also insisted that I hire carpet cleaners. Perfect. 'Twas a costly and crushingly educational experience.

My new apartment is not yet ready. I cannot move in until the 15th. I offered to help my new landlord paint the place - which is a huge job. This may have been my undoing. Basically, I went through Friday and Saturday with a max of 2 hours sleep each night. Apparently melatonin is no match for the adrenaline rush of a 3 am floor scrubbing. Sunday morning I had to go square up the carpet cleaning bill and I figured I would go straight to bed afterward and get some sleep. Well, instead I was overcome by some sort of sleep-deprived mania and I decided I would go paint my new place instead. Smart! Flash forward 3 hours and I started to feel a bit "funny". I decided I just needed a little food. After all it was 2 in the afternoon and I hadn't eaten. It honestly didn't occur to me that my body may just be giving out. You see, I am only just recently coming to terms with the fact that I am 33. Boy, oh boy, in my day I could go for days... Sadly, no more. Anyway, on the way to the restaurant I started to black out. Within an hour I was running a high fever and was curled up in a ball shaking my way through hours of sleep that I could neither escape nor settle deeply into. My fever broke at 4 am and thankfully my skin stopped aching. I was left with a nasty headache, sore throat and the foulest temperament ever.

And was I able to spend the day in bed? No. I went to the Labour Rally in Burnaby. I was in no mood for this very Telus-centred rally, but I have to make my required 16 picket hours for the week. Honestly, I don't know if I would have felt that riled up even if I were feeling well. As I sat there listening to union songs and watching the Telus workers punctuate the union rep's anti-management speeches with supportive screams of "shame" and "liars", I felt detached. Of course, it could have been the Tylenol Flu medication. Who can say? It was very depressing to see so many out of work people gathered in one place. It made me feel a little hopeless. If Telus has been locked out for 2 months, why should I hold out hope that we will get back to work anytime soon? I don't think I will survive 2 months. I'm seriously pissed off. Life's been one big stressfest lately. What I wouldn't do to just have one less thing to worry about. Just something small - like, say my livelihood. Well, if we're blue-skying here, how about getting back to the job I loved. A paycheque. The pleasure and pain of working with my fellow ZeD coworkers.

Oh, boo hiss. I'm in a shitty state of mind. And my throat feels like it's rimmed with cut glass. I'm sure after I've recovered I will feel more inclined to search out the sunny side of the street. But only if the folks over there promise not to tell me to smile when I get over there. I hate that.

Oh, and my heart goes out to Canned Clams. Send your positive thoughts thataway.


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