Wednesday, January 11, 2006
What is it that bothers me so much about the nighttime shitter?
For several weeks, I have been hearing my front gate open and not close at about 1:30am. The first time, I saw the person- he was either peeing or shooting up right by our electricity meters.
This time, he was early. He came at like 12:30. I heard the gate and tried to look out the kitchen window to see if it was the neighbors' gate. I just couldn't tell. After a few minutes' indecision and finishing up washing dishes, I opened the front door, just to check. The gate was open. What the HELL. I grabbed my new big flashlight and walked around the house. There he was, outside my bedroom or bathroom window, in a seated position with his pants down. I was like, What the HELL?! And I think he was incoherently trying to say hold on, like he wanted to finish what he was doing or something. I told him to get out, and then as he was going around the other side of the building, I tried to tell him in Spanish that the gate on that side is locked, but I think he probably just climbed over-- I waited a few minutes to see if he was stuck and would come back around to my side, and then I walked around the other side of the house (leaving my front door open, what a dumbass!), and looked quietly for several minutes. He didn't seem to be there. Or back on the other side.
So...what is it that bothers me so much about this? I guess it's an invasion of my privacy, and a potential threat to my safety. And yes, it is the homelessness staring me in the face. But it's also the fact that this guy doesn't ASK if he can come in and use the bathroom. He just goes in the yard! Outside my bedroom! The window opens only 2 inches, but now I can't even think of opening it. Maybe the rain that should be falling right now will wash it away, but with my luck, it'll get hot and muggy and that shit will stink. Four feet from where I rest my head at night and listen to the traffic.
Another thing that bothers me is that I don't know what is the deal with this guy- he could be shy, or crazy and out of touch, or fucked up on weird drugs-- but I don't even get to know. Instead I am put in the position of the person whose house and yard this is, and I have to feel righteous indignation at this invasion of my space. Even though I hate this space. I hate the size, the shape, the smells, the noise, the traffic, the mold, the dust, the carpet, the blinds, the fact that my roommate doesn't help out enough around the house, my whole life, and yet... I have running water, a toilet that usually flushes, dry blankets, a stove and fridge and TV and even a computer, and a kitty and boyfriend who both love me in their own ways.
And I am still poor. So poor that people don't get it. Dr. Mess saw it when he was here the other week- the worn out boots that don't fit right, the blankets that are leaking stuffing, the stained sheets, the holey socks and thermal underwear and pants and sweatshirts, the ripped raingear, the need for a car and better bike parts and a bigger room and a better neighborhood and less traffic and sympathetic doctors and a haircut-- all problems that I can't address because every time I earn any money, I spend it all on the same day.
I am like the broke alcoholic who spends all of his social security or GA money on booze and cigs- I do that with my chocolate and gummy snacks. I'm poor, and I'm sad about it, and can't I have this one "nice" thing (the junk food) that my body fools itself into thinking makes me feel good?
It also bothers me that this guy doesn't know anything about me- he probably does assume that I am some middle class person who has everything she needs. He doesn't realize that I am a week away from being in his place. If anything were to happen to my hunnybunch, I would be on the street so fast... He has all the money. I spent my emergency $300 months and months ago. I have $55 in the bank, and I have several bills that are automatically deducted from my account every month.
So maybe what bothers me most is the "there but for the grace of god go i" thing. I am almost in this guy's place. My way of life is not only not sustainable, it is precarious. And I CAN'T BE homeless. I don't have the skills, I have too much crap, and I have too many needs that are dependent upon stable shelter.
I need my social security!! And even that won't be much "security." But I can use the lump sum that comes at the beginning to do something to help myself. Something.
email me at haydees@gmail.com
This time, he was early. He came at like 12:30. I heard the gate and tried to look out the kitchen window to see if it was the neighbors' gate. I just couldn't tell. After a few minutes' indecision and finishing up washing dishes, I opened the front door, just to check. The gate was open. What the HELL. I grabbed my new big flashlight and walked around the house. There he was, outside my bedroom or bathroom window, in a seated position with his pants down. I was like, What the HELL?! And I think he was incoherently trying to say hold on, like he wanted to finish what he was doing or something. I told him to get out, and then as he was going around the other side of the building, I tried to tell him in Spanish that the gate on that side is locked, but I think he probably just climbed over-- I waited a few minutes to see if he was stuck and would come back around to my side, and then I walked around the other side of the house (leaving my front door open, what a dumbass!), and looked quietly for several minutes. He didn't seem to be there. Or back on the other side.
So...what is it that bothers me so much about this? I guess it's an invasion of my privacy, and a potential threat to my safety. And yes, it is the homelessness staring me in the face. But it's also the fact that this guy doesn't ASK if he can come in and use the bathroom. He just goes in the yard! Outside my bedroom! The window opens only 2 inches, but now I can't even think of opening it. Maybe the rain that should be falling right now will wash it away, but with my luck, it'll get hot and muggy and that shit will stink. Four feet from where I rest my head at night and listen to the traffic.
Another thing that bothers me is that I don't know what is the deal with this guy- he could be shy, or crazy and out of touch, or fucked up on weird drugs-- but I don't even get to know. Instead I am put in the position of the person whose house and yard this is, and I have to feel righteous indignation at this invasion of my space. Even though I hate this space. I hate the size, the shape, the smells, the noise, the traffic, the mold, the dust, the carpet, the blinds, the fact that my roommate doesn't help out enough around the house, my whole life, and yet... I have running water, a toilet that usually flushes, dry blankets, a stove and fridge and TV and even a computer, and a kitty and boyfriend who both love me in their own ways.
And I am still poor. So poor that people don't get it. Dr. Mess saw it when he was here the other week- the worn out boots that don't fit right, the blankets that are leaking stuffing, the stained sheets, the holey socks and thermal underwear and pants and sweatshirts, the ripped raingear, the need for a car and better bike parts and a bigger room and a better neighborhood and less traffic and sympathetic doctors and a haircut-- all problems that I can't address because every time I earn any money, I spend it all on the same day.
I am like the broke alcoholic who spends all of his social security or GA money on booze and cigs- I do that with my chocolate and gummy snacks. I'm poor, and I'm sad about it, and can't I have this one "nice" thing (the junk food) that my body fools itself into thinking makes me feel good?
It also bothers me that this guy doesn't know anything about me- he probably does assume that I am some middle class person who has everything she needs. He doesn't realize that I am a week away from being in his place. If anything were to happen to my hunnybunch, I would be on the street so fast... He has all the money. I spent my emergency $300 months and months ago. I have $55 in the bank, and I have several bills that are automatically deducted from my account every month.
So maybe what bothers me most is the "there but for the grace of god go i" thing. I am almost in this guy's place. My way of life is not only not sustainable, it is precarious. And I CAN'T BE homeless. I don't have the skills, I have too much crap, and I have too many needs that are dependent upon stable shelter.
I need my social security!! And even that won't be much "security." But I can use the lump sum that comes at the beginning to do something to help myself. Something.
email me at haydees@gmail.com
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