Thursday, December 18, 2014

A Last Big FU From My House to Me

Dear House,

I have been kind to you.  Sure, I have bitched about you and complained about you and cursed you and your money sucking ways.  But I've cared for you and spruced you up and even wrote a long emotional blog post about you a couple weeks ago.  I think I even shed a tear for you, god dammit. I was sad to move and leave you forever.

We only have eight days left together before we depart.  Can't we make them happy ones?

Apparently not.  Apparently you are pissed.

Because you had to give us one last fuck you, didn't you?

You thought eight days before our departure would be a good time to break the heater?  Thanks! Thanks so much!

Bundled up and cold in my Christmas PJs.

You just couldn't let it rest, could you?  You had to give us one night of freezing cold to remind us that you can never really be trusted. One night of walking around in sweatshirts and thick socks and hoodies.  Of calling repairmen during their off hours and pleading with them to come fix you.

And you just couldn't wait for the serviceman to come today, could you?  To fiddle with you and fix you and charge us 500 fucking dollars for a new motor for the heater that we will use for eight days.

You couldn't have waited 8 more freaking days?  Until you're someone else's problem?

You know what?

Fuck you.

I'm over you.  I'm done with you.  Good riddance.

There will be no more of this over the next 8 days, you hear me?  No more.  You can save your falling apart for 2015.



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