“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.” Philip K. Dick

I’m contemplating breaking the law.  I don’t know if I have ever really broken the law before, I’m a rule follower from way back, probably because I come from a family of rule breakers.  My father’s mantra in life is ‘act like you know what you’re doing, no one will question you’.  You know, like a white man.  But I have never been able to do that.  My eyes darting around trying to figure out what everyone thinks of me (spoiler alert, they aren’t) give me away.  I find it less stressful to follow rules and then live with the seething rage that boils in my stomach when I watch everyone else get away with stuff.  You don’t start taking Omeprazole daily for nothing, kids.

But alas, I am considering changing my ways.  I might just murder someone and it will probably be soon.  My intended victim drives a beige pickup truck and is currently cutting tile approximately twelve feet from me.  He has presumably been hired by the neighbor behind me to do something, one can only assume tile every inch of their house, and it’s been going on for nine weeks.  Nine weeks of cutting tile six days a week, ten hours a day. 

Did you know that prolonged exposure to construction noise can cause cancer in rats?  It’s probably true, because I Googled it and read several paragraphs of an article about it, so that’s airtight research right there.

What could be happening over there?  I lie awake at night thinking about it.  I imagine that their house, which is the same size as mine (small) will be covered in tile if he ever finishes it.  Like some kind of tile house, which sounds nice I guess, but also who builds a tile house. I also imagine that he’s been hired by my enemies to torture me with the worst sound in the entire world.  There’s no getting away from it.  It is October, one of the hottest months of the year, and I sit inside all day working at my dumb job, wearing headphones, feeling my soul leave my body in real time.

Maybe I should redirect my fury at the guy who lives there who paid this poor bastard to make this noise that is killing me.  Maybe he had a groupon and the guy doesn’t truly know how to use the machine so every tile takes seven cuts and he’s just doing his best with a new trade after he lost his restaurant business due to Covid.  But the guy who lives there is like eighty years old so that would be sad, but then again, maybe it’s his time and who am I to argue with that.  Then why put more tile in your house, George?  There’s no more room for tile, George.

I pay over three hundred and fifty dollars of my money a month to a homeowners association, but amazingly they are not ‘in charge of noise’.  What exactly are you in charge of, Kimber, if not the well being of the people who pay your salary?  Why am I giving you my money? 

Apparently it all goes to the gardeners, because they are here three days a week and their primary job is to make noise.  No rakes needed when you can point an industrial blower at a pile of leaves while you check your phone.  Guess where the most work needs to be done?  Right outside my window, all morning.  It is only slightly less annoying than the tile cutter so they compete to make me want to kill myself.

I borrowed some noise canceling headphones from my boyfriend but then the Bluetooth broke.  Obviously this was not as a result of me frustratingly throwing them on the bed, they would have broken anyway.  How dare you even think.

So, to sum up, I am currently in a fight with Walgreens pharmacy, who does not understand nuance, as well as Kimber, the noise canceling HOA manager, a guy in a beige truck, and the eighty year old who hired him.

In general, I’m disappointed by my enemies list.  It’s boring and lacks character. 

Will try harder.

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