… because too many people in this world are moron, and those morons seem to be the ones tasked with making sure things don’t fall apart.
Yes, my closet is still subject to a huge water leak from the floor above, the Housing Office people remain idiots — and potentially larcenous idiots, given how they went through the apartment above looking for loot to steal (to the point of unwrapping a present left on the counter), the old, junky washing machine ruined a shirt I’d just gotten and had worn twice — because it’s so old and crappy that the bleach never rinses out on the first cycle — and I’m feeling just about ready to break something.
But hey, maybe the housing office will actually come and try to fix this goddamned mess tomorrow. Then again, maybe they won’t. Or maybe they will, but they’ll also dig through what was left around, to see if they can find something nice to take home. Or maybe they’ll piss all over the bathroom and not clean up after themselves. It’s a coin toss, when you’re dealing with the campus plumbing corps. Seriously!
And I have tons of work to do, and not an iota of motivation to even start in on it today. (And it’s 6:30pm.) I think I understand why the kings of old had whipping boys–human beings to beat the crap out of when things were not going their way. I think I understand that better than I ever imagined I would.
You wanna break the King of France’s nose (just as I want to break the nose of the plumber who didn’t bother to tell me what was going on, but tried to just go home for the weekend), but you can’t. Here’s the whipping boy! Take it out on him! It’s horrible, but I understand, now.
And no, I won’t be whipping anyone. But what I will be doing with that pent up anger, I don’t know. What would make me feel better would be to find a way to fix this bleached-out spot on my nice, new shirt. Or to blow up their office. Either one.