Today sucks and it's not even 6:00AM here. I call that efficient.
It sucks for two reasons.
Reason one: It's our anniversary, the GM1 and I. Fifteen years together in a state of matrimonial splendor, as they say on the Lifetime channel. We also have another anniversary, in November, commemorating the day we met, which is coming up on seventeen years ago. And today the GM1 is all the way over in San Diego. The only one who will benefit from this will be the phone company.
We'll celebrate when he gets back, but for now it sucks.
Reason two: Today is our Pre-Inspection prior to moving out. Pre-Inspection is the torture routine where Housing sends the Physical Housing Manager (wonder if there's a Metaphysical one? A guy that come to inspect your aura before you leave, perhaps?) to tell you all the little nitpicky things you have to fix up before the military will "release" you from your assigned Housing. I always get this image of being handcuffed to a mop, with a prison matron standing over me barking orders to swab the deck or NOBODY'S GOIN' NOWHERE.
Our PHM is Cactus Joe. Joe has the reputation of being the biggest jerk anyone has dealt with. Joe is such a royal pain in the ass that the other people in Housing are actively campaigning for him to take early retirement. Everyone I've talked to despises Cactus Joe.
He's called Cactus Joe because he hates "unauthorized" plants or shrubbery in the yards. During one family's check-in, he discovered the previous tenants had left a cactus growing in a corner of the back yard, a nice large one. He went berserk, shrieking about "dirty trash left behind" and ripped it out of the ground with his bare hands and flung it over the fence. Then he danced around screaming at the family to "get the goddamn pricks out" of his hands.
I've had my run-ins with Cactus Joe before. There is a young tree growing just past our fence that developed a severe break in the trunk, from the neighborhood hellions climbing on it. I called Housing to say it needed cut back or whatever tree guys do when trees go bad. They transfered me to Cactus Joe, who stopped me in mid-sentence to snap "I know all about it. It's taken care of." Then he hung up in my ear.
That was in December. The tree droops in three pieces just past the fence. I have several bets out that he'll try to tell me it's my responsibility to take care of it. Sorry, Joe, I have the official word from Housing... it's your baby.
Today is also Kitten Camouflage Day. It's part of CJ's rep that he also hates cats and will try to push through paperwork to make cat owners pay for an exterminator to come dust the house for fleas, even though there are only tile floors and the cat is perfectly clean. He also allegedly rounds up any friendly strays and takes them to the "Humane" Society... which in this area is a strict "kill everything stray" facility. So before he shows up, I have to try to round up all the strays I can and hide them in my neighbor's garage, along with my indoor cat, Squeeks. As far as Cactus Joe knows, there hasn't been a cat in any of his realm since 1976. This is because everyone is in on the concealment procedure.
There are rules that have purpose, there are rules that were made to be broken, and then there's Joe.
He's so lucky it's not a pms day.
And just for fun, I have three friends lined up to come back to my ex-back yard once we move... and plant a huge, nasty cactus. Have fun, Joe.
(previously posted on Blogspot)
Posted by LeeAnn at June 4, 2003 05:55 AM