She Thinks She's Jackie O.

I know where I'm going and now I need to figure out the logistics of it all, which is in no way a strong suit for me.

Left to my own devices, I would put everything in gargage bags, big ones, and put them in my car and whatever didn't fit, I would leave.

Sadly, this isn't really the most civilized way to go and having done it before, I'm gonna go ahead and admit that it didn't work that well. I'll move like a relative grown-up this time, with a job and a trailer on my car.

I only need a trailer because I am leaving a ton of stuff behind.

Really, I only need my dog.
And this remote.
Wait, I'm digressing.

I want to be out of here by August 1, which seems reasonable but then I consider that I'm talking about me here and I'll sit down tonight to pack a corner of rarely used apartment crap and I'll spend six hours in that corner, ending up not tossing anything like I said I would.

Why so suddenly official?

It finally came to me - the gut feeling I've been seeking for awhile. I woke up to vandalism and as I was walking into my office at lunch, I over-heard a distant frenemy remark to her friend that I think I'm Jackie O in my big sunglasses. Nice.

I smiled and said hello. She knew I'd heard and really, I just wanted to get back to work and feel good about myself for having moved past shit-talking someone for her choice of eye-wear.

I'm not upset by any of this and that's... the feeling I was looking for. I'm not upset because I've moved on from those petty things. Plus, Chelsea reminded me that I am like Jackie O - I have a great sense of style, I'm very cute, and I love drunk men.

Can't argue with that.

I have this immature neighbor who leaves his dogs outside when he's not home. the dogs bark non-stop, sometimes for hours on end. They start up anytime I go in my kitchen which between the hours of six and nine at my place is sort of... constant.

I've asked a number of times for this to not happen and I've told him exactly when, where, and what is happening but no dice. So the last time, not quite a month ago, I told him I was gonna have to call the cops.
And I did on Wednesday.
It had been two hours of barking and before the police arrived, it was ANOTHER two hours.

This morning, I opened my front door and the big motion detector light bulb from the parking area crashed and exploded at my feet.

It had been lodged in my door so that this would be sure to happen.

I swept it all up, laid it at his door, and called the property managers. It's his mess and he needs to clean it up is what I was thinking at the time; now I'm more in the mindset of wondering what the hell might be waiting for me when I get home.
Shit on the door handle?
Eggs exploded and rotting in the Tucson sun?
I don't even think I give a shit. I have a camera phone to take a picture and I have a hell of an education with which to make my legal point to this asshole.

I don't have any intention of being a prisoner to someone's barking dogs or to his dangerous, retaliatory pranks. True, I don't feel safe, again, but that's pretty par for my Tucson course. At this point in my life, I have no problem to cut to the chase and not engage any further.

I have a webcam that is going to be fake monitoring my entry way. Another neighbor had a car window busted out after calling the cops about his own noise issues with that guy.

I can't really afford a car camera but I can afford a fake one.

So that's all in one fun day and the upshot of it is that instead of freaking out and being really upset about all of it, I'm committing to getting the fuck out of here.


arizonasarah at 3:08 p.m.

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