First things first. When I got back to my room in Waterloo, the first unavoidable thing that I noticed was that half my ceiling was missing. Well. This is all well and good because that meant that Bedia (our landlady) had finally taken it upon herself to get my ceiling fixed which means no more leaking of strange, yellowish fluids from the upstairs bathroom. It was also rather disgusting to hear the tales of how exactly they managed to 'fix' it (illegally so, I'm told x_x;; hurray for cheap landladies) and to see the remains of the mold and miscellaneous other growth that had been recently scraped away. The day after, they delivered the boards that covered over said ceiling (my ceiling is the fake kind of ceiling wherein it's just covered in boards. Think of the ceilings in portables way back in them olden days of elementary school where you stuck things hung on yarn between the boards to hang them) so that it looked shiny and new. Almost. There's still a hole in the corner because the staining hadn't spread to that section, but that's a minor detail.
So of course I figure this all well and good. Up until the point where I walk in the next day and step right into a puddle.
...Yeah. No explanations needed on that one.
Said day also happened to be the day of the boyfriend and I's eighth month anniversary. Needless to say, I was sick to my stomach and couldn't go to class. Hell if I ever take well to semi-special occasions, clearly. I felt bad for the boyfriend for putting up with me. Especially since later on that night, when I felt better, he was awesome and took me out to dinner. I'd never been to Red Lobster before. :3 It was yummy.
Sidenote: I was too afraid to take a shower. The boyfriend took one and I was going to go immediately afterwards, but he came out with horror stories of killing 27 spiders over the course of his shower. I don't usually mind spiders, but, um, ewwwwwwww. There is a limit to how many legs I'm willing to have crawling around me!
So, when we come back from dinner, we eventually consider sleeping for that is one should do come nighttime. And we attempt to. And yet at around 3 in the morning we're still awake and the Ogre has awoken and started making stuff to eat. She does that a lot. Eat, I mean.
To keep a long story of her inability to keep track of keys and her constantly losing whatever set of them other people are nice enough to provide her with, she gets locked out of her room. It wasn't our fault. Honest. Ahem.
She pitches a fit and blames the boy who lives next to me. The one who keeps to himself and only speaks to her to tell her to STFU because she is a horrible person and no one wants to see/hear her open her mouth. (And really? She is the first person I've ever met that I do not feel a shred of sympathy for. That is a very, very, very hard task to accomplish. I do not hate easily.)
She then proceeds to call out to each of us in turn and demand that we call Bedia first thing in the morning and get her to open the door. No, not ask. Demand. The conversation went something like this:
Ogre: STEPHanieeee? Call Bedia in the morning and tell her I've been locked out of my room and for her to come open it for me?
Steph: ...How did you get locked out in the first place?
Ogre: Oh, because Anthony locked me out.
Steph: ...Why would Anthony lock you out? (We have a general inclination to keep her in the room. This is because that way we don't have to see her. Or hear half the things that come out of her mouth.)
Ogre: Because he's a turkey.
Steph: o.O;;;; A what?
Ogre: A turkey.
...If I'm ever like this upon turning 40something, someone please shoot me.
Suffice to say I told her my phone wasn't working. Which was not wholly a lie. It was turned off at the time, you see.
Anyway, after my small episode of being waylaid in the living room, I return to my huddled state of curling around a book on the boyfriend's bed. And dozing, despite her snoring. It was very unpleasant snoring. She snores like she's eating babies. Loudly. And this time there was only one door separating us and her foul face.
Eventually, an hour or so later she wakes up. Dan is talking to himself/me, and explaining something on his screen. This is in normal conversational tones. We're not being anywhere close to loud. But of course, she must pass comment.
Ogre: Daaaaaaaaan? Could you please keep it down? Other people are trying to sleep out here and it's past eleven you have to be quiet.
Boyfriend: Go to your room and you won't hear us.
Ogre: I can't. It's locked.
Boyfriend: Well that's your problem. We're not being loud. STFU.
And that was that. For a while. Say... an hour or so more. This is at about five in the morning. Steph is dozing again and preparing for a nice long nap of epic proportions. This is also about the time she thinks to be a reasonable time to start making other people call the landlady again. So she opens the door and starts banging on all the other doors in the building. Including the lady across from us calling out (very loudly, mind you) of her predicament and how Anthony went and locked her out of her room.
Anthony is awake, comes out and tells her to stop telling other people that he was the one who locked her out when he didn't do a damn thing.
Apparently this is most upsetting and wrong of him because what she does is stomp back into our apartment, slam the door as hard as she can, and start screaming at him. At the top of her lungs. Like you would if you were stuck on a burning building, or if you were a self-centered two-year-old who didn't know any better about your parents readying a rod to whip your little kid ass. That kind of screaming. "SHUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUPPPPP!!! I CAN'T STAAAAAAND YOUUUUU!!! I'M GOING TO BLOOOOOOOWWW!! I'M GOING TO HAVE A FIIIIIIT!!!! I CAN'T STAND LIVING WITH ALL OF YOUUUUUUU!!!! I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!"
And so on and so forth (and if I paraphrase a line or two, it's probably because again, my memory? not so good atm)
So in the face of a 40 year old woman reverting to a bawling child, Anthony did the only thing he pretty much could do. He turned around, walked into his room, and shut his door.
...Did I mention that it was FIVE THIRTY IN THE FUCKING MORNING? And this woman is screaming at the top of her lungs in an apartment that, needless to say, is hardly what anyone would call insulated/soundproof. And right next to our front door too which means anyone awake in our whole freaking building is likely to have been able to hear it.
I was almost ready to call the fucking cops on her demented ass. But I was tired. I took my fucking nap. And totally had the restraint of not walking out of the room and slapping her in the face.
And the next day I called the landlady, professional-like. (;ppppp) About my ceiling. And about her. Apparently she's going to come over and have words with that woman. I sincerely hope those words come hand in hand with an eviction notice, especially since Bedia's been threatening her with eviction for the past month or so, what with her not-paying rent and attempting to lie about it and all. She hasn't done it yet, even after all my cool indignation. -_-; Anyone who knows me will know how awkward I can be on the phone. It was a triumph that appears to have been utterly wasted. But we shall see.
...And the next day (yesterday now) I came home. On a schoolbus. The boyfriend and I made lunch together before I left. :) And then we added to that by buying extra bits of sushi at Charlie's Lunch Box at the plaza. My unagi sushi was funny. It... wasn't really unagi, just a little snippet of it with lots of egg and cucumber and imitation crab. But oh well. I haven't had it in a long time and it is yum. ^_^
And so, all things are clearly meant to end happily. If someone would kindly relay this to the Powers That Be, that'd be awfully shiny. :3;;;