Boiling Point

The heat is out of control today, and it's not bringing out the best in anyone.

I was fine when I woke up, but it was getting hotter by the second this morning and I started to go a little nuts. All of a sudden I just couldn't stand to look at all the same crap and clutter for one more second!

I stormed around the apartment, rearranging things, trashing things, chucking crap in a bag to donate to the Salvation Army. The more I moved around, the hotter and sweatier I got, and the more steamed up I got. I was cursing at inanimate objects and making sarcastic remarks to the cat. Dumpling, bless his heart, was terrified but decided things would go better for him if he got on board.

So he cleaned up his piles of junk (believe me, he had significant junk piles to deal with) and even drove me into the city so I could recycle a bag of electronic "leftovers" and buy a very special bookshelf I'd had my eye on for weeks. I got one a year ago, and now we have two. Best bookshelves ever, and very easy to assemble.

On the way back we got pulled over by the fuzz about four blocks from our apartment. One cop stood on each side of our vehicle, and they both looked very sweaty and ready to enforce the law. The cop on Dumpling's side asked for his license and registration, which he provided, and then he asked why we'd been pulled over.

"I'll let you know about that," she snapped, and stalked back to the cop car with his documents. A couple minutes later she came back and gave him a lecture about coming to a full stop at stop signs. Dumpling's no fool: he kept his mouth shut and nodded. I sat still and looked straight ahead. He got off with a warning, then they followed us for a couple more blocks and then we were home free.

Phew!

Came home and our landlady (whom I love) was outside scraping gum and shit off the sidewalk in front of our building. In a hundred degree heat! On her hands and knees scraping and sweeping so she could apply a sealant so the concrete won't crack when it rains. I know this because she already treated all the balconies and window ledges of our building last weekend. She does it every summer. We chatted a bit on our way inside, and she mentioned that the next door neighbor had been outside arguing with her just a moment ago.

Apparently the next-door lady (a fat, cranky, trailer-park-looking bitch) was telling our landlady to sweep up on the other side of the fence as well (the two properties have side-by-side wrought iron fences) and our landlady was saying no way, that's your problem, it's messy because of all your plants, etc. You can just imagine the kinds of things two middle-aged property owners in Brooklyn fight about.

Well. About a half an hour later we're upstairs cleaning and stuff, and Dumpling tells me to go out onto the balcony. Our landlady and the fat bitch are having a hollering match out front. It was like one of those screaming fights you see between women on reality TV shows. They were both beet red, and the neighbor was all, "F that, and F this, and F you, and go F yourself!"

I felt bad for our landlady because she's from Poland and her English isn't that good. It's good enough for everyday, basic communication, but she's not very fluent and I know from personal experience how frustrating it is when you're super pissed off and the person you want to tell to go suck an egg or eat shit and die doesn't speak your language.

Fortunately our superintendent was out there to keep an eye on things, and eventually they both went back inside.

Sheesh! I never saw that on Sesame Street! Remember that song? "These are the people in your neighborhood..."

Thank god the grid is holding and we have power. I'd either be weeping or raging by now if I weren't sitting directly in front of an air conditioner. And thank god my husband always keeps his cool! Our pad looks a million times better, and it's time to imbibe and chill the F out already.