Grr

I have been in a foul mood for awhile now. Yesterday I did a guided meditation on my iPod that purported to help one deal with difficult emotions. I kept silently conveying one fuck you after another to the leader, b/c he wouldn't fucking shut up. He was all "focus on your emotions..." and then in the next breath he kept right on talking. So there wasn't time to focus on anything at all.

What has really been irritating me lately is my cheap-ass landlord. I have for many years now tried my best to be grateful for what I have...a decent-enough apartment at market price in a great location...while ignoring the ciggie, weed, and booze smells that waft through the walls; the shitty windows that leak air like sieves; and the lack of snow removal. (When I asked for new shovels he of course bought incredibly cheap ones.)

Well now he is turning the basement into an apartment for his son who drives a Mustang with an automatic transmission. The apartment includes radiant heat flooring, and a kitchen...which is not mentioned on the permit taped to the door. That permit states that what's being built is an extension of the first floor apartment, an extension that includes a den, a living room, and a bathroom. But no kitchen. So it's yet one more illegal basement apartment in what is understandably the most thickly settled place in the entire state.

The kicker? His son will be living in the apartment while he GOES TO LAW SCHOOL TO BECOME A REAL ESTATE ATTORNEY.

Un. Fucking. Believable.