|The footbridges are public toilets crossing over a public toilet.|
Since December, my cycles brought me to the point of illness. Three months in a row of miserably failing to fight off little microbes.
Lucky me, that pattern was nicely broken with a few nearly simultaneous incidences.
-A break in.
On a busy Friday evening, not quite so late, a young man picked one of the locks and walked into our place. We were home. We were right there. It was obvious people were around, but he came on in anyway. The Human ran him off and we have since actually got the door fixed. Sleep has been rather elusive since that night for the both of us.
-A.. how shall I say? Shit flinging?
A 'client' chewed me out for the pettiest reasons at just the right moment to send me spiraling further into panic attacks. I won't go into it more. I did get an apology. But damn. Damage DONE to a mind/body on the verge of menses.
-A septic tank leak... seep.. stink!
To add to my anxious state, when there is a change in humidity (or the economic conditions in Beijing. Or something!) the room that was set aside for me to work in smells. It smell like shit. My office space is conveniently located above the septic tank, which, these days, has begun to - fart. To further explain: rip some of your hair out viciously, by the roots, grab a lighter, and set that dead keratin protein on fire. Now inhale and luxuriate in the odor that you smell knowing that it is quality perfume compared to this.
And we aren't going to get it fixed any time soon because- sigh- because we don't have enough money.
If we start coughing up the dough for that job then I am certainly not going to Europe- that would be my birthday present I was supposed to get when I turned 30. Actually, I was supposed to go to Cambodia. Look at me, all gone to Cambodia and back! Fphgh.
So I took my frustrations and I did a bit of redecorating. I moved my entire base of operations to another room. I even purchased fragrant candles; things that have been forbidden for fear of burning the place down. So far, the tank hasn't been dropping stink bombs all the time, but I really don't need anymore reminders that I am living 3rd world shit hole. Especially not while on the rag.
I'm on the rebound at least.It's just grinding through one day after another of imbalances you begin to think it will always be like that. Always- I can't think; therefore I can't work. Always- my abdomen is in knots; therefore I can't concentrate. Always- my heart is racing. Always- it is taking me a really long time to focus, to read, and to type so that the spell checker can even help me; therefore I cannot make any of my deadlines; therefore what is the point.
And then it stops. Just like that. And you feel like an ass.
...This time I didn't get the flu. Yay?
Blessed be this design.
Can you hear the bitter sarcasm?