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My New Studio Apartment
Aug. 6th, 2024 10:23 amIggy & the Iggy-Spawn have returned for a week.
As I say, I don’t dislike Iggy, but neither do I like him; his manners are just really bad—as for example: when I got back to the house yesterday afternoon to find him in residence, I called out a cheery “Hel-lo!” from the kitchen & received a dispirited, “Oh. Hey,” from his bedroom: He couldn’t be bothered to come out.
The sounds of some financial TV program were issuing forth from his room, and of course, the stock market lost like a billion points yesterday, so possibly he was contemplating his own financial, heavily leveraged through marginal trades demise and counseling himself he needed to live for the sake of his kids—
But I just thought it was rude.
Clearly, he doesn’t think I’m very important.
He’s pleasant in texts. Even cracks small jokes. Texted me thanks for minding the cucumbers & the chickens: They are like octopuses the way they camouflage themselves.
I guess texting feels like a more natural mode of expression for him than human speech.
Anyway, from now on, I will pretend the Patrizia-torium is a studio apartment. With a shared kitchen.
The Patrizia-torium is very pleasant.
Iggy is kind of a dick, but I already knew that. And it’s nothing personal.
###
(When I told Ichabod about the incident of 10 or so days back where Iggy shuffled me over to his X-Wife on the phone to discuss how to handle the older Iggy Spawn’s cigarette habit, Ichabod said, “You should let him know that made you feel uncomfortable.”
Should I have?
Thing is Ichabod is excellent at telling people their behavior makes him uncomfortable in a neutral, pleasantly inflected voice that is not dripping with vitriol! I am not! In order for me to tell someone they’re making me uncomfortable, I have to get really pissed off. Till I reach that psychological breaking point, I just cower and rationalize the discomfiting behavior away.)
###
Apart from that, yesterday was pleasant. I saw swallowtail butterflies on my daily tromp:
And I drove to New Paltz to Remunerate. Spent part of the afternoon working in a café and part of the afternoon working in the Elting Library, which is housed in one of those old 18th century Huguenot buildings & in 2007, was the scene of a ghostly visitation that is mildly famous here in the Hudson Valley.
No ghosts were espied yesterday, but I did get a fair amount of work done. Though not enough. No matter how much work I do, it’s never enough.
As I say, I don’t dislike Iggy, but neither do I like him; his manners are just really bad—as for example: when I got back to the house yesterday afternoon to find him in residence, I called out a cheery “Hel-lo!” from the kitchen & received a dispirited, “Oh. Hey,” from his bedroom: He couldn’t be bothered to come out.
The sounds of some financial TV program were issuing forth from his room, and of course, the stock market lost like a billion points yesterday, so possibly he was contemplating his own financial, heavily leveraged through marginal trades demise and counseling himself he needed to live for the sake of his kids—
But I just thought it was rude.
Clearly, he doesn’t think I’m very important.
He’s pleasant in texts. Even cracks small jokes. Texted me thanks for minding the cucumbers & the chickens: They are like octopuses the way they camouflage themselves.
I guess texting feels like a more natural mode of expression for him than human speech.
Anyway, from now on, I will pretend the Patrizia-torium is a studio apartment. With a shared kitchen.
The Patrizia-torium is very pleasant.
Iggy is kind of a dick, but I already knew that. And it’s nothing personal.
###
(When I told Ichabod about the incident of 10 or so days back where Iggy shuffled me over to his X-Wife on the phone to discuss how to handle the older Iggy Spawn’s cigarette habit, Ichabod said, “You should let him know that made you feel uncomfortable.”
Should I have?
Thing is Ichabod is excellent at telling people their behavior makes him uncomfortable in a neutral, pleasantly inflected voice that is not dripping with vitriol! I am not! In order for me to tell someone they’re making me uncomfortable, I have to get really pissed off. Till I reach that psychological breaking point, I just cower and rationalize the discomfiting behavior away.)
###
Apart from that, yesterday was pleasant. I saw swallowtail butterflies on my daily tromp:
And I drove to New Paltz to Remunerate. Spent part of the afternoon working in a café and part of the afternoon working in the Elting Library, which is housed in one of those old 18th century Huguenot buildings & in 2007, was the scene of a ghostly visitation that is mildly famous here in the Hudson Valley.
No ghosts were espied yesterday, but I did get a fair amount of work done. Though not enough. No matter how much work I do, it’s never enough.
