well, its now before bedtime, the next day. Honestly, I don't care. The amount of BS I had to deal with yesterday was a bit overwhelming and by the end of it all, I just said "fuck it."
so, after missing class again, I went over to my godmother's house to clean up the rest of our mess. It didn't take that much time, so I went out in search of cheap temporary rugs so we don't have to stand on concrete. Well, hooray for slave labor, because I found exactly what I needed at a certain super center.
so then I came back to my sister's apartment and decided to clean it up a little so, you know, we could actually live in it. It really wasn't that much effort. I tidied the kitchen and living room, and started to bring in the rugs. I realized that one rug wasn't going to be enough, so my editor and I went back to the store to grab some more rugs, and possibly some seat cushions (her chairs cause hemorrhoids).
I thought she had to work overnight and wouldn't be back until the morning, which is why I was able to clean uninterrupted. Well, my sister was home, and I was actually quite happy to see her, hoping that we could work together or something like that.
nope.
nuh uh.
no way.
not happening.
she was going in and out of the garage, bringing in her chairs, so I asked her if she wanted help bringing in her coffee table (she had said she wanted to put it in her living room, and I had planned on bringing it in for her, it makes sense, trust me).
she immediately commented on how I shouldn't have moved her stuff, and how she was going to clean everything (like, that night), and how I shouldn't be trying to take over her house with my things, etc.
the list just went on and on, and all of it was absurd.
well, should I have waited and let her clean her own mess (which really wasn't all hers)? Maybe. But did I want to sit and wait for possibly another two weeks for her to 'have enough time' and not be able to cook or walk through the living room? No. Absolutely not.
the problem with our argument was that neither of us was wrong, but at the same time, neither of us were right.
Who's needs should have priority? Who's chairs should be out and able to be used? Whose music should be playing? Who's life has been more inconvenienced by this whole disaster?
Questions we all really don't want to hear the answer to.
well, as you can imagine, the fighting only kept going, for several hours even. We fought about everything. From chair cushions, to me possibly being a hoarder, to my editor not being a valid person to involve in our arguments, to how the rugs were placed, to who was going to feed the pets, to who has the more demanding job, to who's had to be forced to do things the most by our supportive and understanding family, to what kind if coffee we each drink, and so on and so on.
it even got to a point where I was trying to finish cleaning where I started, which involved having to once again move her former roomate's stuff around, so it was in a safe and easily accessible spot and still not in the way. Well, she wanted me to just leave it in the way and I wanted to finish what I was doing (though, I didn't have it all planned out). She kept trying to "help" by getting in the way and undoing what I had just did, or keep moving something back where I had temporarily moved it, etc. I stepped outside to take something to the recycling (while we were still fighting) and she locked me out.
I was willing to deal with quite a lot, but that was too far and extremely unforgivable. I was not going to sit by and let her treat me like she did to her treat me like her other former roommate (who was a total psycho, mind you). So, I called her out on it, and eventually she opened the door.
It was so ridiculous how much we fought that night. I can't say that I was completely reasonable, but in all honesty, I'm just trying to gain some normalcy in my life. Thanks to our last argument (which I don't remember whether or not I wrote about, but it pretty much ended with a giant "fuck you" from me to her), we hadn't spoken to each other, but part of the fight was declaring that if I had to, I would solely reside in the tiny room I was allowed to be in, and not even use her kitchen if I absolutely had to. I was livid from that and still a little mad about it, but not as much. So, when she said "I don't want to feel like a refugee in my own home," my editor and I about lost it.
Though her home had a little of damage and is a little disassembled, she has still been able to live (somewhat comfortably) in it. Also, while we were at my godmother's house, we offered to house her there so she could be with her pets, and offered her the use of one of our vehicles (which I did fairly often). So, she stayed in her home voluntarily, which was understandable given her circumstance, but we did offer her an alternative, which she declined.
So when she said the about statement to two ACTUAL refugees, you can imagine our frustration. Believe me, I want to be in my own home again and be able to do the things I once was able to, but I can't, so here I am. Which means we have to other choice but to live together and get along. We have to share the same space like we did 6 or 7 years ago, but this time we have no excuse to act like children. We are both responsible (mostly) adults and are expected to behave as such.
So, (I just realized I've started nearly every paragraph with "so" pretty much, my bad lemme try something new).
I really don't want to keep fighting, but she is going to have to learn to share and not act the way she has been, regardless of her sleep schedule. I will do my best not to agitate her or the situation, but since I have to be a part of this household (my editor as well), I'm going to do my fair part.
And I am not going to let her get in my way of doing that I consider to be the right thing.
Kneady monkey.
Ps. I know this is technically going to be posted on Wednesday, meaning that I'm missing a Monday and Tuesday. But I don't care, if I'm lucky, I'll post again in the night, but no promises. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a shit storm.
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