One two three … eins zwei drei … uno dos tres … ichi ni san …
I’m growing through these horrible housing/roommate experiences. While I don’t consider myself an optimist by any stretch of the imagination, rather a realist with nary a hint of rose-colored lenses upon my eyes, I do seek insight, spiritual growth, enlightenment, self-betterment and wisdom from the most heinous, disturbing, troubling and painful of life experiences.
I don’t care to say much more at the moment other than growth is good. But it never comes easily or comfortably.
At work today, in a flash-moment of bad timing, my boss noticed that he’d had me working five days a week. He intended four. Two of those four days are short.
The result: I’ve henceforth lost a day of work, dropping my weekly hours to around 27. At a food-service wage, not enough to even make ends meet.
Do I have a sign on my back reading: “Bad Things Hit Me Here”? ’cause between housing and jobs, it sure seems so!
Today I briefly crossed paths with Daniel the house owner (as well as his new wife). She, uncharacteristically, sorta gave me the cold shoulder; he gave me a look as if I’m a Big Uncooperative Problem Child for raising issues in response to his demand to move in nine days.
That it violates tenant-landlord laws appears less an issue than my wayward uncooperative response. I am the problem. I am the troublemaker. I am la résistance.
Of course I’m merely gauging his mood/thoughts by his countenance; nonetheless, the cold shoulders from he and she lead me to suspect I’m not their favorite person and am unlikely to make their Christmas list.
He’ll like me even less if he pops in Thursday, Dec. 1, and finds me still occupying the room (for which I intend to pay rent, of course). Got a hunch this is gonna get uglier before it comes clean(er) in the wash.