Yes, it’s stressful here. A buddy told me several months ago that the environment I was living in was powerfully stressful, but I didn’t see it. I do now. I think there is only one choice about what to do.
The latest round started with the downstairs roommate blowing off internet, cable and utility bills (part of his rent) so he could be scammed by people calling from Jamaica, offering him multimillion dollar prize money for an delivery fee of $600. (He still feels that it was totally legit.) Now the refrigerator is not working, and there are simply too many cats, inside and out. In this heat peace is hard to find.
I have noticed in this household the peculiar way problems are not dealt with. I’ve always seen problems as gifts to be solved, but these men see problems as opportunities to evade responsibility and sleep for days on end. A pox on this behavior! For any problem there are an infinite number of solutions. I gather this view is as rare on the outside world as it is in my house. Sentimentality and hysterical victimization weary me.
I think for me I’d like to move. Now. I’ve been packing and selling off things since the Spring. (I still have quite a bit, though.) Most of what was left was packed up and sent to a friend’s larger and more popular sale. If I’m going to be car free I need to live much closer to the hub of the transit system.
My stress is manifesting itself as anger, a tightness across the chest. If anger is a map, it’s telling me to make an exit. Take what I can carry and leave now. Or find another solution.