Strongly Worded

Altercation

While I talk a good game about being "full of rage", I actually have become somewhat even- tempered since I recovered from the hell and injustice of high school. While I do rant on a pretty regular basis about Republican behavior, stuff at work, and the state of my skin/love life, I think my ranting is more about frustration than anger, and it's generally confined to calls with my mom, this blog, and friends who listen with some bemusement. I can't remember the last time I yelled at anyone directly.

Until last night. As I've mentioned on several occasions, the 2-family house in which I reside has a poorly maintained heating system. While the landlords upstairs are sweltering, I am shivering and miserable, positioned inches away from space heater, debating whether to call them yet again and ask them to turn up the heat. I cannot emphasize enough how much I am asking. As you probably know, because you've discussed this with me at least 20 times, I have this warped notion that if I antagonize my landlords, they will raise the rent or treat me poorly and I'll be forced to move out, and moving sucks. Thus, I call them a few times a week with my faux-cheery request: "hi, it's Dori downstairs. It's 63 degrees down here (or 59 or 61 or 65--I only call if it's below the 68 housing code standard that one of you posted on here the last time I ranted about this). If you could turn up the heat, that would be great!"

At which point, the landlady sighs, indicates that she is extremely put-out, and says "OK" before hanging up (no goodbye). Occasionally she'll add that it's 71 or 73 or 75 upstairs, and that they're so hot, and once she said that she feels like she's in jail because if she opens the window or turns on the oven the whole system goes nuts. Then I get all deferential (never mind that I feel like an exile, staying late at work in my toasty office because I don't want to face the cold at home).

However, her complete and utter lack of reason drives me MAD (literally). Yesterday, after she flung down the phone, she sent her husband downstairs to yell at me. He showed up in his T-shirt (further proof that upstairs, it's warm), with a thermometer and a hammer and a nail, and insisted he'd put up his thermometer at eye level (because of course, when it's 63 degrees at Dori level, it's definitely much, much warmer at eye level and therefore Dori is unreasonable and no, the heating system is fine, and no, there is no need to have it checked out. Dori's thermometer is a big fake fraud. And clearly getting an accurate temperature reading will solve the non-existent problem with the heating system).

Because the screen/storm window on the kitchen window was stuck (meaning, the storm window was only halfway down), and I knew that if he saw it I'd never hear the end of it, I didn't let him in. I said repeatedly that he was welcome to come and look at the radiators, the windows, the chimney, and any other aspect of my home, but not right now, it wasn't a good time. I stood firm. I got mad. It's my fucking private apartment, and I don't go barging into their fucking private apartment unannounced with a hammer and nail. But of course now he's convinced that I've got a whole tanning salon/pig roast/heat-powered crack den in my apartment, for which I am using inappropriate amounts of heat, financed by the sweat of his brow and his own hardship.

Anyway. I yelled at him. When he told me that last year everything was fine (implying that this year my metabolism and the whole tanning salon/pig roast situation was causing the problem), I yelled back. When he ranted about how I call about the heat as soon as I get home and don't even take off my coat, I yelled back (that's KILLER. It's none of their fucking business when I get home, and the home needs to be warm ALL THE FUCKING TIME). I yelled about how I am seriously considering my tenancy and about fucking housing codes and so forth. While I did not use any foul language, I definitely raised my voice.

And did I feel better? NO. I shut the door politely. I banged around the kitchen. Then I drove to the gym to sit in the WARM sauna. I did some very aggressive exercise. And I slunk back into the apartment to compose a cheery morning message inviting them in so we can find a solution that will make "all of us comfortable."

The rage? Still in full effect.

Posted by Dori at 8:55 AM