Dogs Bark

I've been glorifying the past lately. I'm sure some of the memories are worthy of their rosy glow, however, reading over an old journal earlier leads me to believe I may be deluding myself on some level. The past I'm remembering is pre-heroin and I don't really know why I'm thinking about it now unless it has something to do with feeling I may have squandered some of the years where we are able to get away with doing whatever we want.

Finally moved into new apartment. Moved all weekend and then some and now live in a small, one bedroom place with boxes piled everywhere and not able to find anything until all is put away. I wrote a note to the people who live above us and I said hello and that we just moved in and that it would probably take a few weeks for our dogs to adjust to the new situation. I wrote that they could call us on our cell if there were any problems with them being annoyed with the dogs. But I didn't really expect them to call, mostly because our dogs aren't really bad. They grew up living in apartments and we never had any complaints about them. People may not like us but they don't usually have an issue with the dogs. But anyway, I wanted to be polite and give them our number just in case mostly so that they would call me before the landlord or the police. So, anyway, this is the first night we have had to work and leave them alone there. They've been there for two nights with us already. And at about ten-thirty the girl from upstairs called to say the dogs were barking too much and could we quiet them down so she could sleep, having to work at six-thirty in the morning she kept saying. She sounded totally pissed. And I was like, "They're barking? Oh, well, I'll see what I can do, we're at work so it'll be a few minutes before I can get there." And she was just like, "Okay". And she hung up. So I'm sitting here in my little shack wondering what the fuck I should do about this, why the hell did she have to call, I wish I didn't answer the phone, she would have to eventually just fall asleep. But I did answer. So I went in the warehouse and paged Mike and he asked his boss if he could drive home for a minute to check. So Mike drives all the way back to our place and the dogs weren't even barking. So he called the girl back (I'd call her by name but she didn't introduce herself) and she was all, "Oh, they're being quiet now, it was just probably because my husband was downstairs smoking a cigarette." And she told him not to bother checking on them if it was just going to work them all up again. But why the hell did she really need to call? I mean to me she was saying they had been barking for two hours and couldn't stress enough how she had to sleep. I would not hesitate to use the word bitch when thinking of the impression she made. But then Mike talks to her and she's all nice and it's no longer a problem. What the fuck is that? Anyway, I just really don't want to have problems with anyone in this place. I know the dogs will settle down eventually, if they were even being that loud. But when it really comes down to it, we live in a building with other people, the landlord allows animals, there is going to be noise - it's an old farmhouse, for real, get used to it. I mean, we work at night so we have to listen to everyone all day long. And today they were listening to some shitty pop music station and using some whirring machinery. Maybe they should buy a device to simulate the sound of the ocean or crickets or something to lull them to sleep.

Nine Days To Go

Only nine more days until we can move! I am so ready to go. It will feel like a huge weight has been lifted once we leave and our dogs and belongings are no longer exposed to possible mayhem. I dread each night as I leave for work that someone will break in again, really that the same people will come again and take more stuff or hurt my animals. It will be so great to be able to just go to my yard to walk my dogs. I'll no longer have to coax them into their harnesses and stuff them in the Honda, all six of them. Of course they'll still need some sort of harness and leash at our own house but we won't ever have to worry about strange big dogs or their owners bothering us anymore while we walk.
I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open right now. But if I get caught sleeping at work there is a good chance I could get fired, and that would suck. I think all the stress is draining me. I can't sleep well lately, I feel fatigued even when I just wake up. I know I need to move around more and get some exercise to feel more awake- but it's a hard cycle to break. I really hope this funk lifts with a change of scenery.
I've even been flaky at work, especially at the end of my shift. I start to get really busy around 4:30 a.m. until I leave at 7a.m. but I've already been working for 12 hours by then and I have to type quickly. I'm generally pretty neurotic when it comes to my job. And lately it's not that I lack enthusiasm or pride in my work, my head just hurts from the stress.
Well there's nothing really in my head right now except a heavy fog and a twitch in my eye (it doesn't appear to twitch, it just feels like it. who knows?). This post is merely evidence that I am alive.
The crappiest event occurred the other day. I bought the weekend local paper, which I do only on occasion, because I was intrigued by a headline I spied. 'Body Found on Stickney Brook Road' it read. It was not long before I read further and realized the article was referring to a woman who had lived down the hall from us at the building we just recently moved out of. She lived in the building the whole time we did, almost five years, so we knew her well enough, saw her daily. She almost took a puppy from the last litter we had but she wasn't really compatible with pets so she gave her back, which I was secretly hoping she would do anyway. Even though she was just an acquaintance, it is still creepy. It didn't say much about what may have happened except that she appeared to have suffered from hypothermia. She was only in her forties and relatively active and healthy. It's just sad.
N.

Better Late than Never......

Well, this is good ol' Brattleboro, Vermont. This picture was taken at least five years ago when Mikey and I first moved into downtown. I remember when I first moved here I was excited to finally be closer to town, thinking it would be so much more convenient for shopping and doing laundry and getting to school and work. Really, however, it was a lame decision all in the name of saving money to spend on H instead of rent. We had been living in a house about 30 mins north of Bratt., we rented it from a couple who lived in Bulgaria. When they decided they were moving back earlier than expected, we moved here because a friend of ours was moving out and it was simple. What was initially supposed to be a temporary move turned into years of being holed up in this teensy, tiny one bedroom, drafty apartment. In the end, I couldn't look at even the outside of the building without associating it with H. Something about the way it smelled in the hallway reminded me of copping and I'm so glad we are not living there any more.
I've been hoping to post pics since I started this blog. It's just that after we left this apartment and moved into the apartment from Hell I haven't been able to find anything. Most of that is because I have not been able to bring myself to put our stuff away. I'm glad actually that I did not put a ton of effort into the place we are in now, mostly because we are finally leaving and also because I hate these people and I don't want them to benefit from another speck of my effort (I know that is petty and childish and I don't care!).
Anyhow, in packing up to move yet again, I found this lone disc of pictures from many years back. Not so many years that they are no longer relevant. Everything still looks pretty much the same as it did when these pics were taken. It's not like I'm twenty-five in these pics and fifty in real life. Mike and I still look the same except our dreads are longer and we gained some weight from getting off H. As soon as I find my camera and charge it and what not I'll take some recent pics for the sake of comparison. Plus, I really want to post some pics of the freaks who fraudulently rented us the place we are leaving. They are a trip, as is their house. Stay tuned.

Warning: The Following Post is an Exercise in Venting

Well, Mike and I just put a deposit on a new apartment. It's nothing great but it's not the place we're in now. It's expensive but the guy doesn't care about us having the dogs; he just said if we ruined anything not to expect our deposit back. That's fine, I never do. Even if I don't think anything is wrong, like normal wear and tear. I only ever got a deposit back once from a really old woman who was super nice and honest. A lot of the time I think the people don't even have the money to give back to you. So this time around we rented from a man who has been renting for forty years and it's his business. I think he will be more stable of a landlord. Like we actually received a receipt for the deposit amount, although having been screwed so many times we brought a bank check just to be extra safe - no more cash exchanges for me.
So the main catalyst for this move was our apartment getting broken into. Property of much value was taken - I don't really know how safe it is to divulge the specifics on the Internet. I imagine anything written here could feasibly be incriminating. More than the actual items stolen, what makes me the most angry is the invasion of my privacy and the effect it had on my dogs. They were throwing up and had diarrhea all the next day and into the following night after the whole incident. That says to me that they were most likely terrified and sick with fear or perhaps the thief gave them some kind of food to get them to back off. The woman who lives behind us said that the morning we found our house robbed she found a huge chunk of rotten hamburger in her yard. She has a really big German Shepherd and maybe someone was trying to get him to shut up too, but he's really old and not used to people food and didn't eat it. Our dogs would because Mike cooks them their own food every day. Like they get chicken or hamburger cooked with rice and vegetables and they even get their own vitamin supplements (we don't have kids if that helps explain such oddness). Plus, they're assholes when we are home but I don't know what they would do if we weren't there. I'd like to think they put up a fight but for all I know they jumped up and licked the intruder.
Anyway, it's no mystery who it is when you get robbed - I mean there are those flukes when a total stranger breaks into a random house but in most cases you know the perpetrator. In our case, it's really easy. There are only two choices. I guess it's sad and pathetic in a way that I know for sure. But I do because only two parties know where we live and what was in our place since we moved there. And the doors were damaged but had been locked upon exit by whoever broke in. There is only one person I know who could accomplish that and he happens to be in the running. The other people who could come in and take shit and re lock the door would be the guy downstairs who rented us the apartment - he's not supposed to have a key to our place but I'm sure he does. We obviously have pad locked everything now for the next two weeks till we move.
Any locksmith type people out there??? Is it even possible to force entry into a door with a bolt lock and then have it back in place upon exit without having the key??? Does that make sense?? I wish I had pictures of the door. In fact, I need to get on the visual scene regardless of the stupid door. I need a profile picture and I want to post pics of the dogs and Mike's glass pieces - he blows really nice glass and I want to show it off - that will be my priority after this whole hellish episode blows over.
It's just really bothering me. If it was the people downstairs, I can at least see their logic - they feel owed because I refuse to pay full rent with no heat in the building. They don't see it as a problem. I'm like, you lied about the amenities this place had, we moved in here based on a string of lies - there's no heat included, no cable, no Internet, and the place is generally shabby, leaking and in overall disrepair. The police told us we don't legally have to pay at all and referred us to the court house dealing with civil matters in Newfane. In fact, the day this happened and the police came, they informed us that Dan, the guy who rented us the place, was in no way a legal owner of the property. His brother who lives in North Carolina or something actually inherited the house. The brother seems like he wants nothing to do with it because he didn't show for the funeral and he's not paying the taxes apparently. So maybe this is a blessing in disguise because we got out now before the place is condemned or foreclosed on. Blah, blah, blah I know this probably doesn't make much sense to anyone but me. My thoughts are so scattered, I feel so violated and angry. We work so hard and then someone just comes along and scoops up the bounty we've been slaving over. It makes me want to vomit.
The second guy who could have done it I really thought was a friend. And that hurts my feelings more than anything. If he had just asked for some money or help we would have given anything we could spare.
This whole thing sucks because it's really enforcing my bias against people who have any sort of addiction. I mean I know there are good people out there who are addicted and recovering. I'd like to believe I'm one of them and I have one really good friend who I met in a women's group at my old clinic. She is honest and clean and responsible and a great mom - so I know there are exceptions. But once we are in our new place - NOBODY is coming over except for immediate family and Katie. That sucks because it just fuels my own disease not to be able to have a social life but I feel like I can't trust anyone I haven't known since before I could talk. Any new potential friends will be put to a rigorous set of tests - I'm not really joking.
Most people are like, "If someone broke into my house, I'd fucking shoot em. Let's go fuck them up!" But that's just not our style. I just want people to leave me alone. If I have nice things it's because I work hard for them, they don't fall from the sky because I'm blessed. Both culprits do not have jobs and they figured easy money I guess. I just want to count my losses and thank God my dogs are not severely injured which could have happened and I'm looking into alarm systems for the new place. I want to believe that I may have learned something throughout all of this. I'd like to hope that I will not make brash decisions like taking someones word about an apartment and renting it without inspecting it first. I know I sound naive, maybe I am. I like to believe people are genuinely good but maybe I have to reevaluate?