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It’s been a really shitty day, and I’m tired.

It’s 8pm on a Tuesday evening, and we haven’t had a day off since a week ago yesterday.  We haven’t even been able to give each other much time off like we could at our last property because we‘re too busy to be single-handed for long. As it is, one of us has to leave each day anyway to hit the bank and perform whatever that day’s errands might be. If someone has to be alone, I typically prefer that it be me, so Scott is left to take care of everything else.

In addition to being our busiest time of the month (month-end reporting is tedious and drawn out over 2 days, regardless of how prepared you are. Plus, everybody’s rent is due), the last couple of days have been filled with contractors working to get our house move-in ready.  Our 4 day relocation-transition period has turned into an almost month-long ordeal that’s been anything but easy.

Somewhere in here is where I lost my sense of humor.

It took 5 painters 2 full work days to paint our 2-bedroom home. Since our home is attached to our office and showroom, we’ve been subjected to the commotion of their working, their conversation, and their affinity for loud and static-riddled latino music.  Then, probably just minutes after we inspected their work and went back to our apartment, somebody apparently slid against one of the freshly-painted walls and left a lovely rub-mark behind.

The housekeepers came today and, in keeping with the precedent set by the painters, did a piss-poor job of their own. I’m going to have to clean out the inside of the microwave before I will use it, and we‘re going to have to take down every A/C vent grill to be cleaned and repainted.  The outgoing managers were smokers and the vents are just nasty. Plus, the miniblinds are down from all the windows and shoved in the back of a closet, so I don’t even know yet if they‘re going to need to be cleaned, too.

The circle of crap is now complete.

My new district manager is just starting to figure out that not only will I do a fantastic job for him, I will demand the exact same from him. And, since I never demand anything unreasonable, I will expect to receive everything I demand. My former district manager not only understood this, he encouraged it.  A happy me is a productive me, and a productive me can knock the hell out of getting some work done.

All of that being said, my new district manager isn’t enjoying the phone calls he’s getting from me right now. I wouldn’t either, if I’d displeased me. Scott’s just glad it isn’t aimed at him.

All things considered, I’m thrilled that our prolonged relocation is coming to an end. We‘re spending one more night in this tiny little apartment, but in body only. In spirit we‘re already back in our own wonderful bed, surrounded by all of our books and movies and family photos and trinkets and music and everything else we find ourselves taking advantage of from time to time. I’m looking forward to finally establishing the last stages of our new routines and having our home only a doorway away from our office again.

Ya know, as long as the movers are on time tomorrow morning...


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