I slept a fair amount of time, in intervals, last night, but should have had more this morning. Instead, I rested, and got ready to deal with the fridge being delivered later on. I made a jug of decaf, expecting to keep it in the new fridge. Then the guy who was here before called and said they wanted to give me a "good" smaller fridge, but I would have to wait until Tuesday. Making plans - setting my body to go - is not easy for me. I told him I had a bus arranged for later, and was going to buy some fresh food, etc.
I also told him that I NEED a big fridge. He came over, (early), and measured my current fridge, to see what they could fit up my stairs. All their fridges are lying on their sides, for some reason, in storage, and must be tested before giving them to tenants. I asked him to see if there were bigger ones. He left, and called soon after that. He said the best one was the one they had already selected for me, and I agreed.
But now I have a malfunctioning fridge until Tuesday. The freezer works, but it is 100%packed. What I'll have to do is alternated foods between below and above, every day. Unfortunately, this can't be done with veggies. I am still going to buy some fresh stuff, today, though. Eggs, cilantro, roasted chicken! Who knows how long I can hold out. But, it is possible that my store/laundry/house-hunting will be cancelled, too, if my debit card doesn't receive its disability deposit today, (since the 31st is on a Sunday). They have let it go a day late, before, but usually deposit it a day early... But TWO days?).
This repairman is aggravating. He talks really slow, and plods on and on even if you are trying to converse. He's a little old guy who is nice to everyone, but does have that local passive-aggressive streak. Foolishly, he was the one who was sent to check to see who was living downstairs, not on the lease. Just knocked. Couldn't do more. But he also chummed it up with a neighbour guy who WANTS the guy downstairs to keep living there. And, foolishly, the repair guy gave this neighbour a phone number. I don't know what that ever was about.
THE WEIRD PART:
And - he keeps looking down at my zinger. He is a dad with grown kids, but he, like, looks at my hair and starts feeling his bald head, and all that. I can't stand when people do this stuff. I got something similar from the girl with coke-bottle eyes, and so started using a different check-out aisle. Her hair is all beautified, etc., ever since she suddenly got interested in me. I feel sorry for these people. I hate being forced to act stuck-up. But, in both cases, I just talked decently and directly, and they - idk - I don't flirt. I run.
In fact, come to think of it, that same BIG MISTAKE was what started off the insanity with Nether Girl - who ended up spitting at me in hatred, and all I know is this person lived nearby, and I treated her with respect, which apparently got lost in the foggy thought bubbles sitting in stationary patterns over her head.
And what about the girls in the cafe saga, who hid behind books and stared at me writing alone at my table, kicking my knee about with mental electrification? Every time I test this, they turn around and HATE me. But why do employees get to stare at customers, and gossip, just because they are employed at some place, while the customers are supposed to be too timid to walk up and say, em, what are you doing? DENIAL EVERYWHERE. eh.
I think virtually all human beings, with, perhaps, the exception of me, have completely erroneous ideas in their heads about completely everything. It's like their only real function is to pop up like a tin soldier and insist, "The giant slothful, salacious blob-monster behind me NEVER oversteps its bounds!"
I challenge you to a duel!
Well, on TV, in pop songs, in web sites, in the darkened halls of Congress, every manner of idiosyncrasy and intercourse is supposed to occur, freely, as if by law - everywhere else but here and now, all the expectations are fulfilled, by anyone but you and me. And there they go, forever on the lurch, programmed not to launch, but to abort, and blame. Doesn't all this make you wonder if perhaps it is not desire or imagination or will which are the real values here. Rather, perhaps these are automatic snares, or rouses(?), and it is, instead, spite, blame and domination which are the real object of this game, that none can see?
The former is a kind of basis for believing the SELF has will, and ego, and needs, and &c. The latter is the real game, where the scent of blood in the water turns people into quiet little sharks, snap, snap.
You know. So many women flirt themselves into the opportunity of toying with men, making sweet little jabs, and kicking them in the shins, while men, of hardened penis, are just fine with that. And, on the other hand, so many man-boys jaunt around shouting BITCH this and BITCH that, and twist things, and make themselves aloof and quiet, just to rile women - only to come down in a low voice and say, "Hey, baby, want this back-scratcher, baby, mhmmm?"
All this works great, when the game-players are mutually wanting sex, in the big black denial part of their brains, called Lucifer. The little taunts and toys and teases and tingles are a very pleasant little pain, that builds up positive stress, and makes gonads go on search-and-rescue raids on each other. JUST FOR THE RELEASE!
But what about the people who don't want sex, but are just plain nice, and not trying to initiate this flirting, and this cascade into preliminary BDSM? What happens to them?
Because they don't start from the psychological, or genital, premise that they are bound to the same status quo assumptions of the wider incestuous family, with all its values and expectations, and money, then they don't start sliding into the game, and become some kind of mechanical rabbit that all the game-players not set loose upon, chasing, chasing, with pitchforks and derogatory comments!
He's an alien!
He was leading us on - into something not of this world!
He has no penis to speak of!
But the smart ones know where the true penis lies.
It lies in the mind's eye, wearing a little hat, and chirping about Stravinsky.
Oh - btw. I found out my dog understands verbal gender differentiations. I told him that the repairman was coming, "He is coming! 'B' is coming!" He knew what this meant just fine, as usual. (I spent lots of time teaching him this, so I know for sure he understands it). But, just because I wanted to speak like a foreigner, I then said, "'B' - She is a-coming!" When I referred to a SHE, my dog suddenly perked up, was slightly disoriented, and then looked downstairs, thinking I was now referring to the girl downstairs - even though I was dwelling on the repairMAN. How about that. He also becomes a little confused every time my breasts swell up each month. So do I - i mean wtf!
Also... I took my dog out at noon, as usual. I saw a guy coming with a big Rot, or some dog, so I urged my dog inside early, just to avoid impending bother, from both dogs. I stepped out to pick up something. Meanwhile, the guy was nice enough to keep his dog from crapping on my dog's lawn. While we were inside, my dog and I see the day taking a crap further off, staring in our direction. No big deal, but then J Girl, from downstairs, comes out, slamming front door, in her stupid competitions with me, and walks towards the store - (or the NETHERS?) - as a cellphone zombie, showing that she is so immensely popular that she is on the phone 24/7, (even though she told me she knows only 3 people in this town).
She walked straight out where the dog had crapped. I don't know if she stepped in it, but it is possible. I have found that these passive-aggressive sheep-warriors are their own downfall. They fixate on the people they desire, i.e., envy, i.e., HATE, all because of their own continuing failures. The NETHERS kept falling into traps because of this tragic flaw - or fuel - and eventually got "thrown out". J-Girl recently lost her car.
Such broken people, though, are not to be dismissed, in a decadent or corroding society. Why? They aggregate together, and may ease each other into well-paying, yet broken jobs.
And, eventually, they end up ruling the world, with one mission for us all: