[Sub-Heading: Listening to the couple next door yelling at each other - extended edition]
Sometimes their conversations are mundane. Sometimes their conversations are abusive. Sometimes their conversations betray painful truths about the fragile vulnerability of human interactions. Frequently their conversations are loud (such that I can often hear them through the shared wall). Occasionally their conversations take place in our shared driveway (making it even easier for me to eavesdrop on them). One time it sounded like things were escalating to a dangerous place and I considered ringing the police. They are both in their early 30s and there are some difficult decisions ahead for them. In the meantime, they continue shouting at each other:
(NB: the order of fragments is mostly random; some fragments are from the same conversation; some fragments are direct quotes, some fragments are paraphrased; I've grouped fragments into sections of five, with each section being either her or him only; I've tried to balance more toxic fragments with less toxic ones; capital letters indicate screaming rather than yelling)
her: you're acting like a 5 year old
her: it's never going to happen!
her: watch yourself!
her: I'M NOT ACTING LIKE A BABY!!!
her: what about the future?
him: you're fucking nuts!
him: I don't know what I want
him: you say you have revealing dreams about me
him: FUCK OFF!!!
him: I love you
her: unfuckingbelievable!
her: this is as good as it gets!
her: when are we having a baby???
her: I'm your chauffeur
her: GET AWAY FROM ME!!!
him: you keep talking about your biological clock
him: I would never cheat on a woman
him: YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!
him: I want to have a baby
him: how many cigarettes have you had?
her: I love you
her: this isn't 5 years ago
her: I wouldn't not want you to be happy
her: you're following 900 women on instagram
her: FUCK OFF!!!
him: I'm happy in this job
him: SHUT UP!!!
him: I want the mother of my baby to be healthy
him: how many steps have you done today?
him: it was just for fun, it doesn't mean anything
her: why are we still fighting about this?
her: there better not be any teenagers
her: stop touching me!
her: I'm just trying to make suggestions to help you
her: I'm going to talk about this
him: today, I'm not your boyfriend
him: I know how to wash dishes!
him: I will kill your cat
him: what about my happiness?
him: I don't want to talk about this
Showing posts with label Driveway Drama (front tenant). Show all posts
Showing posts with label Driveway Drama (front tenant). Show all posts
Monday, 11 January 2016
Thursday, 6 August 2015
The Driveway is Mine!
[Sub Heading: Driveway Party]
Mine, mine, ALL MINE!! In fact, I am officially declaring my driveway to be a 'driveway' rather than a 'shared driveway'. And I can do this because the annoying people who live next door, and with whom I have to share the driveway, will not be annoying me as I have killed them. Yeah! Actually, they have gone away on holiday (probably 'cos they were worried I was gonna kill them, hah!). And they haven't just gone away for a little bit, they've gone away for a month (assuming I overheard her correctly). So I will be having a driveway party every day for the next 4 weeks. And by 'driveway party' I mean that I will be enjoying not being yelled at in the driveway, being able to drive my car up and down the driveway without hindrance from her car, not having to avoid windows breaking onto the driveway (or possibly onto me), and not having to avoid stepping on broken glass left in the driveway from the broken window. I also won't have to listen to slamming doors or to them yelling at each other (though sometimes this can be entertaining), and I won't have to smell her stinky cigarette smoke or hear her whiny voice. For a whole month. Bliss.
Mine, mine, ALL MINE!! In fact, I am officially declaring my driveway to be a 'driveway' rather than a 'shared driveway'. And I can do this because the annoying people who live next door, and with whom I have to share the driveway, will not be annoying me as I have killed them. Yeah! Actually, they have gone away on holiday (probably 'cos they were worried I was gonna kill them, hah!). And they haven't just gone away for a little bit, they've gone away for a month (assuming I overheard her correctly). So I will be having a driveway party every day for the next 4 weeks. And by 'driveway party' I mean that I will be enjoying not being yelled at in the driveway, being able to drive my car up and down the driveway without hindrance from her car, not having to avoid windows breaking onto the driveway (or possibly onto me), and not having to avoid stepping on broken glass left in the driveway from the broken window. I also won't have to listen to slamming doors or to them yelling at each other (though sometimes this can be entertaining), and I won't have to smell her stinky cigarette smoke or hear her whiny voice. For a whole month. Bliss.
Friday, 22 May 2015
"I'm an Asshole...
...(he's a real fucking asshole)". I'm An Asshole, Denis Leary.
(Just to clarify, I'm not saying that Denis Leary is an asshole, though he may well be, I'm referring to the title of his catchy and inspiring 1994 song).
"I'm an Asshole" is the song that 'plays' in my head whenever I think about my neighbour (my neighbour being the asshole of the song title) with whom I have to share a driveway. (See here for other blog posts relating to this asshole-neighbour phenomena). I've codenamed my neighbour, Cruella, or Planet Cruella (as she seems to believe she is inhabiting her very own planet).
However, the intention of this blog post is not to snark vitriolically about Cruella - as much as I would derive much pleasure from such a task ('cos maybe there's a bit of asshole in me, too). In fact, and conversely, living next door to Cruella has forced me to consider the implications and tribulations of the expectation to "love thy neighbour". Gah!
[Obviously, I can try to avoid and ignore Cruella, which I am mostly able to do, but as we live in the same driveway (it's just our two flats) and our front doors are 4.5 meters apart (I measured), and she and her partner are VERY LOUD people, complete avoidance/ignoring isn't always possible.]
So, given that she is in my 'sphere', and at times, has aggressively protruded herself into my sphere, I feel compelled to form a judgement about her. But what judgement? Is it really necessary (morally, practically) to try to see the good in people? How much latitude is reasonable when focusing on a person's positives and overlooking their negatives, before giving in and screaming: Asshole!?
Planet C has certainly presented me with a challenge. I want to be someone who is sympathetic and empathic, who sees the beauty in others, but I also want to smack Planet C in the head (not always, but often enough).
I feel some degree of 'motherly' concern for her - I don't know why, possibly because I'm somewhat older than her and I don't have children of my own to worry about - and I can see that her attitudes and actions are more likely to get her into trouble than to get her what she wants (or thinks she wants). But, equally, she's not a (petulant) teenager anymore, despite behaving like one (she's actually in her early thirties).
I know some things about her (which I know because she talks VERY LOUDLY on her phone while she's having a cigarette in the driveway, right next to my flat). I know she grew up in a large family - maybe her siblings were boisterous and competitive, and she always felt overlooked, so she developed a toxically self-centered and hostile persona as a way to cope. I know she very much wants to get married and have children but, so far, her partner seems to be resisting these commitments, which is making her even more volatile. But plenty of people want children and marriage (or some kind of romantic security) who don't get these things; there's no guarantee, there's no human right. And, realistically, I worry how Planet C would cope if she did have a baby; it could make or break her. She can't be having one of her tantrums when it's 3am and her baby is hungry and sick (and probably covered in sick) and its diaper seriously needs to be changed, and this is the 5th night in a row of this; she'll need to harden up and deal with it. I think someone as entitled and immature as Planet C might struggle with the challenges of motherhood.
I accept that there are myriad life circumstances, unknown to others, that may explain some asshole behaviour - though not necessarily justify it. And I try to believe that everyone has a likable side - not only because society says I should. But I don't think, for the foreseeable future, Planet Cruella is someone that I'll be able to like; if she has redeeming qualities, she keeps them very well hidden. I don't wish ill upon her; if she were having a medical emergency, I would call an ambulance - though I probably wouldn't inquire afterwards as to how she was doing. And while I can't bring myself to wish that she has happiness in her life - Planet C doesn't seem to give a flying damn about other people's happiness - I don't wish that she doesn't have happiness. She's not evil, but she is frequently annoying, sometimes obnoxious, and it doesn't help in the quest to like her that she has a (VERY LOUD) laugh that possesses the essence of a cackle.
(Just to clarify, I'm not saying that Denis Leary is an asshole, though he may well be, I'm referring to the title of his catchy and inspiring 1994 song).
"I'm an Asshole" is the song that 'plays' in my head whenever I think about my neighbour (my neighbour being the asshole of the song title) with whom I have to share a driveway. (See here for other blog posts relating to this asshole-neighbour phenomena). I've codenamed my neighbour, Cruella, or Planet Cruella (as she seems to believe she is inhabiting her very own planet).
However, the intention of this blog post is not to snark vitriolically about Cruella - as much as I would derive much pleasure from such a task ('cos maybe there's a bit of asshole in me, too). In fact, and conversely, living next door to Cruella has forced me to consider the implications and tribulations of the expectation to "love thy neighbour". Gah!
[Obviously, I can try to avoid and ignore Cruella, which I am mostly able to do, but as we live in the same driveway (it's just our two flats) and our front doors are 4.5 meters apart (I measured), and she and her partner are VERY LOUD people, complete avoidance/ignoring isn't always possible.]
So, given that she is in my 'sphere', and at times, has aggressively protruded herself into my sphere, I feel compelled to form a judgement about her. But what judgement? Is it really necessary (morally, practically) to try to see the good in people? How much latitude is reasonable when focusing on a person's positives and overlooking their negatives, before giving in and screaming: Asshole!?
Planet C has certainly presented me with a challenge. I want to be someone who is sympathetic and empathic, who sees the beauty in others, but I also want to smack Planet C in the head (not always, but often enough).
I feel some degree of 'motherly' concern for her - I don't know why, possibly because I'm somewhat older than her and I don't have children of my own to worry about - and I can see that her attitudes and actions are more likely to get her into trouble than to get her what she wants (or thinks she wants). But, equally, she's not a (petulant) teenager anymore, despite behaving like one (she's actually in her early thirties).
I know some things about her (which I know because she talks VERY LOUDLY on her phone while she's having a cigarette in the driveway, right next to my flat). I know she grew up in a large family - maybe her siblings were boisterous and competitive, and she always felt overlooked, so she developed a toxically self-centered and hostile persona as a way to cope. I know she very much wants to get married and have children but, so far, her partner seems to be resisting these commitments, which is making her even more volatile. But plenty of people want children and marriage (or some kind of romantic security) who don't get these things; there's no guarantee, there's no human right. And, realistically, I worry how Planet C would cope if she did have a baby; it could make or break her. She can't be having one of her tantrums when it's 3am and her baby is hungry and sick (and probably covered in sick) and its diaper seriously needs to be changed, and this is the 5th night in a row of this; she'll need to harden up and deal with it. I think someone as entitled and immature as Planet C might struggle with the challenges of motherhood.
I accept that there are myriad life circumstances, unknown to others, that may explain some asshole behaviour - though not necessarily justify it. And I try to believe that everyone has a likable side - not only because society says I should. But I don't think, for the foreseeable future, Planet Cruella is someone that I'll be able to like; if she has redeeming qualities, she keeps them very well hidden. I don't wish ill upon her; if she were having a medical emergency, I would call an ambulance - though I probably wouldn't inquire afterwards as to how she was doing. And while I can't bring myself to wish that she has happiness in her life - Planet C doesn't seem to give a flying damn about other people's happiness - I don't wish that she doesn't have happiness. She's not evil, but she is frequently annoying, sometimes obnoxious, and it doesn't help in the quest to like her that she has a (VERY LOUD) laugh that possesses the essence of a cackle.
Wednesday, 15 April 2015
The Unknown Unknown Unknowns
[Special Note: Whilst the title of this post was likely inspired by the 'logic' of Donald Rumsfeld, the post itself is not about him or his tautologies]
It is unknown to me what I was thinking, 2 weeks ago, when I wrote the title of this blog post. I know I had something in mind, but then I failed to actually write the blog post, and now I haven't got a frickin' clue what it was going to be about. I'm not making this up! It really is unknown to me what great substance was forming in my brain when I audaciously titled my unwritten blog post the unknown unknown unknowns. If Hermione Granger were here she would say, "What an idiot!". If Donald Rumsfeld were here his brain would melt and leak out of his ears.
Still, I'm feeling a hankering to write a blog post. And I have an intriguing title already in existence; a title that could mean virtually anything. And it's wildly random. A virtually random wild title. A wild title of virtually random unknowns. Okay, that last sentence doesn't entirely make any sense. Nevertheless...
random...
I suspect the average human being requires closer to 9 hours sleep per night, rather than 8 hours. That there are 24 hours in a day isn't scientific justification for dividing up the day into 3 lots of 8 hours, it's just convenient maths.
I also have suspicions about the 8 hour work day.
The longer I'm single, the more I enjoy it. I do have the occasional 'relationship', though. For example, I have an on/off thing going with the 12th doctor, so I always set aside time on the Saturday/Sunday nights when Dr Who is screening so I can spend this time with him. But when Dr Who isn't screening, I forget all about him.
(And following on from the joys of being single...the pitfalls of lurv...)
The shouty, volatile, obnoxious couple living in the flat next door need to break up (and definitely not procreate - which she is keen to do, he maybe not so much). Their semi-regular and very loud fights seem to be intensifying; last week's fight culminated in a shattered window and broken glass all over the driveway. It started with a disagreement about driving the car and to whom the car belongs:
she said, "you never drive"
he said, "it's your car"
she said, "it's our car"
and repeat. Add hysterical yelling. And feet stomping. And door slamming. And window breaking.
(Incidentally, the car is actually hers, and he catches the train to/from work, he also rides his bike and walks).
My keen observational and psychoanalytic skills lead me to conclude that the conflict about driving and ownership of the car (a Holden Astra - a notoriously divisive car) is symbolic of incompatibility in their desired levels of relationship commitment: He wants to remain a passenger (just along for the ride), she wants him to 'drive her around when she's 8 months pregnant' (presumably pregnant with their baby). I foresee more and escalating tumultuous times ahead.
Last night Alexander Skarsgård appeared in my dream. It would be okay with me if this were to happen more often.
I should try to write something meaningful about unknown unknown unknowns.
An unknown may not always be unknown, and an unknown unknown may eventually become a known that is known, but the unknown unknowns which are unknown will always remain as unknown unknown unknowns...
It is unknown to me what I was thinking, 2 weeks ago, when I wrote the title of this blog post. I know I had something in mind, but then I failed to actually write the blog post, and now I haven't got a frickin' clue what it was going to be about. I'm not making this up! It really is unknown to me what great substance was forming in my brain when I audaciously titled my unwritten blog post the unknown unknown unknowns. If Hermione Granger were here she would say, "What an idiot!". If Donald Rumsfeld were here his brain would melt and leak out of his ears.
Still, I'm feeling a hankering to write a blog post. And I have an intriguing title already in existence; a title that could mean virtually anything. And it's wildly random. A virtually random wild title. A wild title of virtually random unknowns. Okay, that last sentence doesn't entirely make any sense. Nevertheless...
random...
I suspect the average human being requires closer to 9 hours sleep per night, rather than 8 hours. That there are 24 hours in a day isn't scientific justification for dividing up the day into 3 lots of 8 hours, it's just convenient maths.
I also have suspicions about the 8 hour work day.
The longer I'm single, the more I enjoy it. I do have the occasional 'relationship', though. For example, I have an on/off thing going with the 12th doctor, so I always set aside time on the Saturday/Sunday nights when Dr Who is screening so I can spend this time with him. But when Dr Who isn't screening, I forget all about him.
(And following on from the joys of being single...the pitfalls of lurv...)
The shouty, volatile, obnoxious couple living in the flat next door need to break up (and definitely not procreate - which she is keen to do, he maybe not so much). Their semi-regular and very loud fights seem to be intensifying; last week's fight culminated in a shattered window and broken glass all over the driveway. It started with a disagreement about driving the car and to whom the car belongs:
she said, "you never drive"
he said, "it's your car"
she said, "it's our car"
and repeat. Add hysterical yelling. And feet stomping. And door slamming. And window breaking.
(Incidentally, the car is actually hers, and he catches the train to/from work, he also rides his bike and walks).
My keen observational and psychoanalytic skills lead me to conclude that the conflict about driving and ownership of the car (a Holden Astra - a notoriously divisive car) is symbolic of incompatibility in their desired levels of relationship commitment: He wants to remain a passenger (just along for the ride), she wants him to 'drive her around when she's 8 months pregnant' (presumably pregnant with their baby). I foresee more and escalating tumultuous times ahead.
Last night Alexander Skarsgård appeared in my dream. It would be okay with me if this were to happen more often.
I should try to write something meaningful about unknown unknown unknowns.
An unknown may not always be unknown, and an unknown unknown may eventually become a known that is known, but the unknown unknowns which are unknown will always remain as unknown unknown unknowns...
Saturday, 1 November 2014
Operation Sneaky Gardening Has Been Successful!
Mission: To get front tenant to park her car fully into her car parking space such that the back of her car doesn't protrude into the driveway and thus reduce or obstruct my ability to get my car into and out of the driveway.
This task needed to be achieved without recourse to speaking to front tenant as front tenant is stark raving bonkers (ProTip: sleeping in is not a sufficient reason for not moving your car when you have parked in behind me). So, not wanting to ever have to interact again with front tenant as long as we both shall live, but needing to get her to move her car approximately half a foot further into her parking space, I was faced with a somewhat dastardly dilemma. One option was to put a note into her mailbox politely explaining the car protrusion issue, but if this note happened to catch her on a bad day, it might provoke her into yelling (again) at me through my door (previous yelling was because I wouldn't let her park behind me in the driveway). Another option was to reverse wildly out of the driveway and bang my car into her car and maybe she'd take the hint - I'm not so concerned about damage to my car, which is 25 years old and starting to rust, whereas she seems to be proud of her much newer, unmarked, car. But, of course, this ran the very high risk of inciting her into a not yet seen manic (and possibly violent) manifestation of her potty person persona.
It eventually became clear to me that this problem was going to require an 'outside the box' solution. Firstly, I needed to get into the mindset of front tenant to try to ascertain what was motivating her to not drive HALF A FUCKING FOOT further into her parking spot. And, secondly, if I were able to 'know thy enemy', what tools did I have at my disposal to achieve a solution.
Upon closer inspection of front tenant's parking spot I noticed something pertinent, even shocking; there was quite a bit of vegetation growing wildly into the parking space. Perhaps front tenant was averse to parking her car on top of plant. Perhaps front tenant actually had a sensible reason for (yet another) obstruction of the driveway. Well, this seemed like a demon I could battle (and win) because, as it turns out, I have gardening tools (and the permission of the Landlord - actually the Landlord's wife - to do gardening). I could clear away the vegetation, and maybe this would coax front tenant's car further into the parking space.
And so Operation Sneaky Gardening was conceived. And a frenzy of gardening did ensue. I gardened my heart out (and, naturally, also put my back out) until that parking spot was bereft of plant. Observe the before and after photos:
the before:
and after:
It's like the parking spot has had an extreme makeover!
Here is a photo of the entire parking spot, showing its full splendour:
Here is a photo of my cat in a window ledge, showing her full splendour (possibly not entirely relevant):
So, after much toiling and lower back turmoil, I went inside and waited for front tenant to come home and park her car (my life is quite the adventure). And park her car she did: ALL THE WAY into the parking spot. Hurrah! And what makes this tale of driveway de-obstruction and wayward flora tamed even more wonderful, is that front tenant doesn't know it was me who cleared her parking spot - presumably she thinks it was the actual gardener - hah!
[Note: Due to frequency of blog posts dealing with front tenant induced driveway dramas, I have created a new Label: Driveway Drama (front tenant)].
This task needed to be achieved without recourse to speaking to front tenant as front tenant is stark raving bonkers (ProTip: sleeping in is not a sufficient reason for not moving your car when you have parked in behind me). So, not wanting to ever have to interact again with front tenant as long as we both shall live, but needing to get her to move her car approximately half a foot further into her parking space, I was faced with a somewhat dastardly dilemma. One option was to put a note into her mailbox politely explaining the car protrusion issue, but if this note happened to catch her on a bad day, it might provoke her into yelling (again) at me through my door (previous yelling was because I wouldn't let her park behind me in the driveway). Another option was to reverse wildly out of the driveway and bang my car into her car and maybe she'd take the hint - I'm not so concerned about damage to my car, which is 25 years old and starting to rust, whereas she seems to be proud of her much newer, unmarked, car. But, of course, this ran the very high risk of inciting her into a not yet seen manic (and possibly violent) manifestation of her potty person persona.
It eventually became clear to me that this problem was going to require an 'outside the box' solution. Firstly, I needed to get into the mindset of front tenant to try to ascertain what was motivating her to not drive HALF A FUCKING FOOT further into her parking spot. And, secondly, if I were able to 'know thy enemy', what tools did I have at my disposal to achieve a solution.
Upon closer inspection of front tenant's parking spot I noticed something pertinent, even shocking; there was quite a bit of vegetation growing wildly into the parking space. Perhaps front tenant was averse to parking her car on top of plant. Perhaps front tenant actually had a sensible reason for (yet another) obstruction of the driveway. Well, this seemed like a demon I could battle (and win) because, as it turns out, I have gardening tools (and the permission of the Landlord - actually the Landlord's wife - to do gardening). I could clear away the vegetation, and maybe this would coax front tenant's car further into the parking space.
And so Operation Sneaky Gardening was conceived. And a frenzy of gardening did ensue. I gardened my heart out (and, naturally, also put my back out) until that parking spot was bereft of plant. Observe the before and after photos:
the before:
and after:
It's like the parking spot has had an extreme makeover!
Here is a photo of the entire parking spot, showing its full splendour:
Here is a photo of my cat in a window ledge, showing her full splendour (possibly not entirely relevant):
So, after much toiling and lower back turmoil, I went inside and waited for front tenant to come home and park her car (my life is quite the adventure). And park her car she did: ALL THE WAY into the parking spot. Hurrah! And what makes this tale of driveway de-obstruction and wayward flora tamed even more wonderful, is that front tenant doesn't know it was me who cleared her parking spot - presumably she thinks it was the actual gardener - hah!
[Note: Due to frequency of blog posts dealing with front tenant induced driveway dramas, I have created a new Label: Driveway Drama (front tenant)].
Friday, 17 October 2014
Hierarchy of Difficulty
The Hierarchy of Difficulty is, in principle, a ratings system in which various everyday tasks and situations are allocated a numerical value reflecting the degree of difficulty experienced by an individual whenst that individual encounters said everyday tasks or situations. Commonly, the rating scale is from 1 to 10, with 1 = super easy ("I am strolling through a well maintained park on a pleasantly warm summer's day whilst eating a delicious non-dripping ice-cream") and 10 = massively fucking hard ("I have reverted to a permanent foetal position, you may as well kill me now").
I have personally found the Hierarchy of Difficulty to be an effective tool in identifying irksome obstacles and assessing their level of irksomeness upon my person. This helps to give me a more concrete picture of the irksome and, thus, the extent of its evil. I am then better prepared to devise an irksome-reduction strategy. Here are some recent examples from my hierarchy, with ratings in brackets:
♣ Spelling 'hierarchy'. (5)
♣ Writing a blog post titled 'Hierarchy of Difficulty'. (4-5)
♣ Reversing out of my driveway with neighbour's bins almost obstructing driveway - with the margin of error being not more than 2 inches. (8-9)
(though closer to (7) now that I've moved bins approximately 4 inches to the north - away from the driveway - and neighbour seems not to have noticed)
(for those of you at home doing the maths, that does indeed mean that my total margin of error is now approximately 6 inches, which is still pretty tight, but I am highly skilled at driving my car in reverse out of my driveway, so I can handle it, unless I've been drinking or am experiencing a severe inner ear condition or I've got my eyes closed)
♣ Reversing out of my driveway with my eyes closed. (9-10)
♣ Talking to neighbour about bin/driveway issue. (10)
(see here for previous driveway issue involving the same neighbour)
♣ Not obsessing about the driveway irritations of neighbour. (8)
♣ Not obsessing in general. (7-8)
♣ Accurately differentiating between healthy and unhealthy obsessing. (4-5)
♣ Using my powers of obsessing for good rather than evil. (5-6)
♣ Not obsessing to the point of freaking myself out. (3-4)
♣ Establishing a personality that is not easily freaked out. (5)
♣ Establishing a personality that is not easily freaked out by other people. (6-7)
♣ Establishing a personality that does not easily freak out other people. (6)
♣ Deciding whether or not to care about people freakage in general. (1-10)
♣ Finding a job commensurate with my ability to hold it down. (7)
♣ Determining my level of ability in the 'job holding down' arena. (7-8)
♣ Focusing on the positives rather than the negatives. (1-10)
♣ Maintaining high enough energy levels - physical, mental, emotional - to cope with everyday obstacles. (1-10)
♣ Not giving in to Asperger type tendencies. (7-8)
♣ Giving in to Asperger type tendencies. (1)
♣ Going to the supermarket. (1-10)
♣ Finishing blog posts. (1-10)
I have personally found the Hierarchy of Difficulty to be an effective tool in identifying irksome obstacles and assessing their level of irksomeness upon my person. This helps to give me a more concrete picture of the irksome and, thus, the extent of its evil. I am then better prepared to devise an irksome-reduction strategy. Here are some recent examples from my hierarchy, with ratings in brackets:
♣ Spelling 'hierarchy'. (5)
♣ Writing a blog post titled 'Hierarchy of Difficulty'. (4-5)
♣ Reversing out of my driveway with neighbour's bins almost obstructing driveway - with the margin of error being not more than 2 inches. (8-9)
(though closer to (7) now that I've moved bins approximately 4 inches to the north - away from the driveway - and neighbour seems not to have noticed)
(for those of you at home doing the maths, that does indeed mean that my total margin of error is now approximately 6 inches, which is still pretty tight, but I am highly skilled at driving my car in reverse out of my driveway, so I can handle it, unless I've been drinking or am experiencing a severe inner ear condition or I've got my eyes closed)
♣ Reversing out of my driveway with my eyes closed. (9-10)
♣ Talking to neighbour about bin/driveway issue. (10)
(see here for previous driveway issue involving the same neighbour)
♣ Not obsessing about the driveway irritations of neighbour. (8)
♣ Not obsessing in general. (7-8)
♣ Accurately differentiating between healthy and unhealthy obsessing. (4-5)
♣ Using my powers of obsessing for good rather than evil. (5-6)
♣ Not obsessing to the point of freaking myself out. (3-4)
♣ Establishing a personality that is not easily freaked out. (5)
♣ Establishing a personality that is not easily freaked out by other people. (6-7)
♣ Establishing a personality that does not easily freak out other people. (6)
♣ Deciding whether or not to care about people freakage in general. (1-10)
♣ Finding a job commensurate with my ability to hold it down. (7)
♣ Determining my level of ability in the 'job holding down' arena. (7-8)
♣ Focusing on the positives rather than the negatives. (1-10)
♣ Maintaining high enough energy levels - physical, mental, emotional - to cope with everyday obstacles. (1-10)
♣ Not giving in to Asperger type tendencies. (7-8)
♣ Giving in to Asperger type tendencies. (1)
♣ Going to the supermarket. (1-10)
♣ Finishing blog posts. (1-10)
Saturday, 21 June 2014
Move Your Car!!!
[Subtitle: I'm using this blog post to snark indirectly at my neighbour instead of snarking directly at her as that may be too confrontational and possibly lead to violence and I really would (mostly) prefer to solve this issue in a peaceful manner]
Dear Annoying Neighbour (front flat),
The problem with your firm belief in your 'entitlement' to park behind me in the driveway such that I cannot get my car out, is that you actually have NO entitlement to do this. And, more importantly, I actually have a legal right to move my car in and out of my parking space whenever the hell I like. I also have a legal right to get both you and your car booted off the property if you keep blocking my car (which I'm currently in the process of doing). So, you might want to start parking in your allocated parking space - to the side of the driveway - if you don't want to get evicted (surely not being able to park in the driveway is a somewhat minor inconvenience compared to being evicted).
You seem to think that it's perfectly reasonably for me to have to knock on your door every time I want to take my car out and that I'm being mean by not agreeing to such an arrangement. Would you agree to it, if you lived in the back flat?
Your strategies to try to get me to swap parking spaces with you have not been without some measure of creativity. Your appeal to my 'compassionate' side ('my life is harder than your life, so I deserve to park in the driveway/under the carport', or something like that) whilst not being original (or true) was executed with some flair. Your attempts to passively-aggressively bully me by being slow to come to the door when I knocked and then being hostile about moving your car (in effect, trying to make it so difficult for me to get my car out that I give up and start parking in your spot) were unexpected and initially unsettled me, but now I'm battle ready and prepared for the onslaught. Your self appointed role of being gate-keeper to my life is making my angry and defiant, not submissive (your understanding of human nature seems a little misguided here). But you really are wasting your energy because there ain't no way I'm giving up my (allocated) parking space (which I've grown quite fond of over the years).
I accept that my parking space is a little nicer than yours. I park under a carport (though I do have to park right in front of my doorway, which some people might not like), whereas you park under a tree (but the area in front of your flat is clear). But your argument that you have a right to a carport is pretty wild. You, as a human being, have a right to shelter, your car does not. Unfortunately (for you), when I moved in (many years ago), the flat with the carport was vacant so I took it (not because of the carport, that was just a bonus). Maybe one day I'll die an untimely death and you can move into my flat and park under the carport. (Warning: if I am murdered, I will be exercising my right as a spirit-in-limbo to haunt the hell out of my flat). But, for the present, you'll have to park in the side spot or find somewhere else with a carport and move there.
You are being immature and illogical and a bully, and something you need to realise is that the tactics you are using on me to try to get your way may have worked when you were in high school or living at home, but in the real world they are likely to get you evicted from a tenancy or fired from a job. But I think the most important thing you need to realise, the thing that you are foolishly failing to appreciate, is that I'm just as big a cotton candy ass as you!
Bite me,
Effulgent13 (back flat)
[UPDATE/EDIT (6/8/2014): The driveway/parking situation is now under control! The front neighbour is now parking in the spot to the side of the driveway (and has gotten the tree cut down, making that spot a much better parking space). All is now (seemingly) calm in our driveway.]
Dear Annoying Neighbour (front flat),
The problem with your firm belief in your 'entitlement' to park behind me in the driveway such that I cannot get my car out, is that you actually have NO entitlement to do this. And, more importantly, I actually have a legal right to move my car in and out of my parking space whenever the hell I like. I also have a legal right to get both you and your car booted off the property if you keep blocking my car (which I'm currently in the process of doing). So, you might want to start parking in your allocated parking space - to the side of the driveway - if you don't want to get evicted (surely not being able to park in the driveway is a somewhat minor inconvenience compared to being evicted).
You seem to think that it's perfectly reasonably for me to have to knock on your door every time I want to take my car out and that I'm being mean by not agreeing to such an arrangement. Would you agree to it, if you lived in the back flat?
Your strategies to try to get me to swap parking spaces with you have not been without some measure of creativity. Your appeal to my 'compassionate' side ('my life is harder than your life, so I deserve to park in the driveway/under the carport', or something like that) whilst not being original (or true) was executed with some flair. Your attempts to passively-aggressively bully me by being slow to come to the door when I knocked and then being hostile about moving your car (in effect, trying to make it so difficult for me to get my car out that I give up and start parking in your spot) were unexpected and initially unsettled me, but now I'm battle ready and prepared for the onslaught. Your self appointed role of being gate-keeper to my life is making my angry and defiant, not submissive (your understanding of human nature seems a little misguided here). But you really are wasting your energy because there ain't no way I'm giving up my (allocated) parking space (which I've grown quite fond of over the years).
I accept that my parking space is a little nicer than yours. I park under a carport (though I do have to park right in front of my doorway, which some people might not like), whereas you park under a tree (but the area in front of your flat is clear). But your argument that you have a right to a carport is pretty wild. You, as a human being, have a right to shelter, your car does not. Unfortunately (for you), when I moved in (many years ago), the flat with the carport was vacant so I took it (not because of the carport, that was just a bonus). Maybe one day I'll die an untimely death and you can move into my flat and park under the carport. (Warning: if I am murdered, I will be exercising my right as a spirit-in-limbo to haunt the hell out of my flat). But, for the present, you'll have to park in the side spot or find somewhere else with a carport and move there.
You are being immature and illogical and a bully, and something you need to realise is that the tactics you are using on me to try to get your way may have worked when you were in high school or living at home, but in the real world they are likely to get you evicted from a tenancy or fired from a job. But I think the most important thing you need to realise, the thing that you are foolishly failing to appreciate, is that I'm just as big a cotton candy ass as you!
Bite me,
Effulgent13 (back flat)
[UPDATE/EDIT (6/8/2014): The driveway/parking situation is now under control! The front neighbour is now parking in the spot to the side of the driveway (and has gotten the tree cut down, making that spot a much better parking space). All is now (seemingly) calm in our driveway.]
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