so i took half a sick day today due to being half sick. i'm going to work later on to close up the store, but the rest of the day is mine, all mine. now that i've got the vomiting out of my system, i'm wondering what to do with myself next. it's amazing how invigorating a good session of vomiting can feel.

we're moving in five days. i step outside to get the mail after dabbing the puke from the chin and notice there's a man poking around outside the apartment next to ours. i say hello, and he says, "how do you like living here?"

"why?" i ask. "are you thinking of renting out this apartment?"

he affirms my suspicions, and i immediately launch into the diatribe that i have been saving for a situation such as this, after i calm down from hearing that, for the same apartment, his rent would be a full five hundred dollars a month less than mine. five hundred dollars less!! what kind of bullshit is that? i tell him how living on the first floor makes you feel like the ceilings above are going to crash down on your head whenever you hear the thunder of the people upstairs walking around. i tell him how the promises that management makes are lies, all lies! i tell him about if your neighbors get roaches, you're guaranteed to get roaches. i tell him the furnace breaks fortnightly, how the leasing agent has a large quantity of screws loose, how they won't clean your carpets before you move in, and did i mention how the ceilings might as well be made of paper? they say you can move in one day, and then they call you the night before to say, "yeah, the apartment's not ready yet." i go on about how horrible it is to do your laundry in a separate laundry facility, stressing how much it sucks in the winter, and i tell him how you get two guest parking passes, and that's it, and how if you have more than two visitors, those extra visitors are getting their asses towed, no two ways about it.

he looks upset. he asks, "how's the neighborhood? are the cops out here a lot?"

and i answer, honestly, "well, they were here last night. and monday, too."

this man, this father of two, is visibly shaken. "i don't think i'm going to be renting here," he says, clasping my hand. "thank you so much for your input."

"all in a day's work," i tell him, proud of myself for helping to bring down this complex. then i come inside and watch as this broken man slumps back to his car, head hanging sadly like a sack of potatoes strung from a twig.

anyhow, i'm sick. can't figure out what it is. maybe watching some daytime tv will help me put it all in perspective.