I’m a nice person, or at least that’s what people have said about me since I started preschool. I’m polite, quiet, humorous and just so gosh darn nice that it makes you want to give me a little pat on the head.
Alas, I’m also a complete and utter bitch when someone or something pisses me off. (It’s usually someone, things just get chucked with as much might as I can muster.)
Yes, I can rip you into itty-bitty pieces if you tick me off. But I don’t enjoy it; in fact, it makes me quite sick. My stomach starts to whirl, I get a pins and needles feeling throughout my entire body and my eyes turn from dark brown to almost black.
So, I had to turn my wrath on today.
Wrath on. Wrath off.
(Clap your hands with a happy face, then clap again and switch to a mean face. It’s fun.)
I live in a condo and we have an association that dictates what we can and can’t do.
No planting veggies at all, it brings the deer out of the woods.
No outside Christmas decor, one must make sure not to be too festive.
No using your garage to store stuff like Christmas decor. Cars, bikes and trash cans only.
No cannonballs in the pool, it scares the kiddos.
No long-haired hippie people.
No excessively loud flatulence in the common areas.
Okay, fine. We’ve followed these rules for almost 9 years. Instead of actually feeling like we own a home, we feel like we are just renters. I am warning you all, never purchase a condo that has an association. Just trust me on this.
This year they are repainting the buildings, there was a note in our mailbox the other day. I’m sure they’ll use the same colors, light and dark brown. God forbid they change it up a little bit, like white, a calming lavender or periwinkle blue.
Anyways, the painters are afraid of my two dogs. My husband received two calls from some chick in the condo office. The second voicemail was the one that sent me into a purely livid state of mind.
If we didn’t lock up our “aggressive” dogs, she had said nastily, they would be forced to come here and board up our windows. And then, they would charge us for it.
“I’ll call you back,” I said ever so calmly to Tom in my scary voice.
I dialed the office.
Upon pickup, I went the fuck off, making sure not to swear or insult the lady that I was talking to. Of course she denied the nasty voicemail.
“I didn’t listen to it. My dogs are not aggressive, they are protecting their home and owners from intruders. I am here with them all day and I will make sure that they don’t bother the painters. But to actually threaten to board up my windows and charge me? That seems awfully unnecessary.”
Blah, blah…last option they had, blah fucking blah.
Um, no, bitch. No. I don’t know who the hell you people think you are, but this is my home. I have the deed.
Dogs bark. I mean, seriously? I get it, people are afraid of dogs. Even I am, I was attacked twice as a kid. So I get it. I am not upset about that aspect of the situation. I will keep my dogs under control.
But threatening to board up our windows and charge us?
I may need to make a Klonopin smoothie later and then toilet paper the condo associations office.
On the plus side, a couple of years ago I wouldn’t have been able to make that call. Instead, I would have been hiding in my closet crying.