Monthly Archives: October 2019


I just had someone I’ve never met, open my door and bring his two year old inside MY apartment. The scary thing is, I thought my door was locked — it wasn’t. He just walked in.

He quickly left saying he had “the wrong apartment” when I came out to investigate (as it sounded like the ice maker starting up again). Unfortunately, I was too stunned to actually say anything which makes me feel even more useless.

I just returned from three days at Disney, so I must have left the door unlocked while I unpacked (which is, thankfully, what I was doing when he came in) as I’m already paranoid of things exactly like this happening. This could have gone badly in any number of ways – especially since this complex had a spate of car and home invasion robberies last year.

This means I’m literally sitting here feeling scared and unsafe in my own apartment — and it’s MY OWN DAMNED FAULT!! The best part is, there is literally nothing I can tell myself to calm myself down that can’t be disproven by the fact that it happened.

It doesn’t matter how many times I check my locks at night if someone barges in in the middle of the day. It doesn’t matter how angry I get about it if I can only blame myself for it. It doesn’t matter how much he apologizes, it still happened. It doesn’t matter what lies I tell myself to quash my heightened anxiety, it still happened. It still happened, and I’m still scared….


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A laundry list of problems: Part 2

I’m led out of the Exam Room and pointed towards the tiny lab room.
The same lab I had a panic attack and nearly fainted in last year after the lab tech said she was prepping for my tests by tying a band around my arm and pulling out a half dozen empty vials and a needle twice the size of said arm! Thankfully, they had another patient in there when I arrived, so I had a few seconds to compose myself befo…

“Hey, you,” a voice shouted as I suddenly felt someone staring at me while I was scrolling on my phone. “I asked you: ‘what are you here for’… ahem, I mean, ‘sir’” (nice save, lol).

She calls me into her tiny lab room, takes the pink folder the doctor gave me out of my right hand and tells me to have a seat. She can see I’m anxious about this, but, obviously, she’s a professional. She knows what to do in situations like this.

“Are you… ok,” she asked with that familiar mix of disgust and contempt as if she “had to ask” but was clearly afraid I’d answer her. However, before I could, she rolls her eyes and snapped, “I asked if you are okay…um, sir” (not quite as convincing, but she’s trying).

She then turns around, flips through the folder, rolls to the desk, pulls out a disclosure form and shoves it in my face while rotely explaining how I agree to pay a $10 “convenience fee” for the privilege of getting the work done in house (so, I’m paying for the doctors’ convenience? Yeah, that totally sounds fair).

“If you don’t like it,” she said exasperatedly, barely looking up from pulling needles and vials out of the cabinet next to her. “You can go to any lab you want and pay whatever they want to charge you. We aren’t charging you to see a lab elsewhere – THAT’S why it’s a ‘convenience fee.’”

That argument makes no sense. I wish I could remember my exact reply, but I do remember asking if she heard that odd “echo” in the room as she seemed to say everything twice.
She takes a breath, shoves a grimy squeeze toy into my hand and snaps: “If you would a

nswer my question the FIRST time, I wouldn’t HAVE to repeat myself. So, STOP IT… sir.”

Yes, a 1.5 second auditory processing delay can just be turned off – like a light switch. It’s a neat little Aspie trick… but it doesn’t work, and people yelling at me for having it only makes it worse.

“Now, hold still. You can close your eyes. You can look away. Whatever you want, just keep still.”

I close my eyes and turn my head as far left as it’ll go since last year’s accident, grip the grimy squeeze toy and try to avoid thinking about…. SWEET MOTHER OF MERCY THAT HURTS!! Yes, I felt every millimeter of it and every pulse the needle made.

As a red film drips away from my eyes (like someone thrown blood in them), I could feel a light slap on my arm: “I SAID, ‘RELAX YOUR ARM.’ RELAX IT…sir.”

That was it, my vision slowly returned to normal and my ordeal was over. It was off to the checkout window (a whopping 15 feet away) to pay the co-pay and that was all… that I can remember as I’m posting this four months after the fact, but, as the title suggests, I’m pretty sure I forgot about laundry (which was never actually solved).

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A laundry list of problems

I just left the doctor’s office. I only got to tell them half of my symptoms. They said my blood work will tell me if there is anything wrong with me. Said blood work won’t be finished until next week. I’m hoping it isn’t too serious.

She seemed skeptical about the orange stains on my clothes and chastised me for not bringing them in for her (or her lab) to look at. I told her: “I didn’t get a chance to ask if you do those kind of tests here when talking to your receptionist on the phone.” She wasn’t impressed with that answer.

Yes, part of me agrees with her that it could be normal “food or coffee stains,” or even “sweat or other body functions” (in layman’s terms shit). Though I couldn’t help but be reminded of that condescending “you just don’t know how to do laundry” line maintenance gave me. Heck, even if their tests do show nothing out of the ordinary, it still wouldn’t explain ALL of it as some of them weren’t even worn!

I also have a large painful bubble in my one of my knuckles (index finger) and a non-painful one (on my ring finger). The doctor dismissed them as “nothing” and recommended I just “sit and watch it for a while.” I told her she should check it out anyway (because of my grandmother’s arthritis), but she replied I would need to see a specialist for that… but she wasn’t immediately sure what kind [of specialist] as it would depend on what the condition is. Umkay…

Hopefully, the blood work she sent me to get will provide some answers, and, sadly, that’s where this story goes downhill…

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National Co-meme Out Day

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Just for fun: Autistic Bingo

Some of these aren’t marked because they no longer apply (doodling, cryptid nerd, and I was even into “House Hunters” for a while).

Note: I take no credit for the card itself. I stole it from another page. Sorry.

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UPDATE: Three Days, no solutions

Today is the third day since re-reporting my dismissed problems to the leasing office (they take this seriously, their maintenance team apparently does not). To my knowledge, not only has nothing been done, but no-one has been by to check on it. I’m beginning to think they aren’t going to come over the weekend either.

Yes, in the grand scheme of things, three days isn’t a long time to wait for something like this. I also know that a complex with 1100 units has a laundry list of problems on a daily basis… but something tells me that only are they not taking this seriously but that they are making me wait around for nothing.

Sorry, but, contrary to what most people think, I actually have places to go (I already put off a doctor’s apt because “omg, what if I’m not here?”) and things to do – and I’m going to do them. I refuse to be a prisoner in my own apartment. This lease can’t end fast enough…


Second update: As predicted above, no-one came by over the weekend either. But I did get a doctor’s appointment to see if it really is mold as someone suggested… or just IBS and strong allergies. This I know I’ll get an answer to this week… maybe. (10/7/19)


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