*RANT*

I usually consider myself a fairly accepting, patient person.

BUT IF MY FUCKING NEIGHBORS KEEP FUCKING SMOKING IN THEIR FUCKING HOUSE WHEN WE SHARE THE SAME FUCKING VENTILATION SYSTEM AND IT’S IN THEIR FUCKING LEASE THAT THEY’RE FUCKING NOT SUPPOSED TO SMOKE IN THE FUCKING HOUSE, I’M GOING TO GO DOWN THERE AND RIP THEIR FUCKING HEADS OFF GIVE THEM A PIECE OF MY MIND!

Either that, or I’m going to insist that 1) the landlord fix the damn ventilation system or 2) we move in August.

It was cigarettes at 5:30 (right after work is my guess) and for the last 30 minutes, it’s been pot smoke.

Now, cigarette smoke gives me headaches and pot? Pot turns my stomach and pisses me off.

DO WHATEVER FUCKING DRUGS YOU WANT BUT DON’T FUCKING BRING THEM INTO MY HOUSE!

I”m going out. At 8:30. When I don’t WANT to go out, because the fuckwads downstairs can’t keep their fucking filthy habits out of my fucking house.

//edit: Two hours later the smoke’s gone, and I’m finally going to bed. I’ve incidentally just finished reading a bit about the silencing tactics used on folks in the minority (opinion, gender, race, whatever) and I thought about editing this post for … well, to sound more “ladylike”. But no. I really felt like that. I’m not going to cover it up now and apologize to all the people with potentially hurt fee-fees from me ranting about my inconsiderate neighbors downstairs. No mantras of “I probably shouldn’t have yelled” or “I probably should have been more calm” or “I’m exaggerating things”. I don’t have to doubt myself that way. I don’t have to behave ‘appropriately’ in my anger at the imposition of other’s lifestyles on my own. I am a human being, and therefore entitled to feel anger, along with the rest of the bag-o-emotions.

The factoids here: I don’t have to live anywhere I don’t want to. If they don’t move out, and the LL doesn’t throw them out, or the LL doesn’t fix the vents, so that, basically, what we have to look forward to is another year of smelling other people’s smoke, then we’ll find someplace else to live. The lease is up in August. If I have to live with this garbage for another four months, then it’ll just reinforce the idea that moving = good.

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