Trapped!

I got to bed late last night, then read for too long. Too many books to choose from: Neil Gaiman's American Gods, Amy Tan's The Opposite of Fate, and a book Ruth lent me called The Other Boleyn Girl (Phillippa Gregory). Sleep hit me at about 5, then for no good reason at all, retreated at the indecent hour of 7. When I realized the time, I fell back into a stuporous sleep, the result of off hours, fighting a cold, and too many cigarettes in too short a time last night. Ugh.

I woke up thinking at least it would be a pretty day. When I was fading in and out of sleep earlier this morning, I could see that it was one of those dramatic Septemeber days when the wind is whooshing and clouds go whipping across an otherwise sparkling blue sky.

By the time I coaxed myself into getting up, the dramatic September morning was degenerating into a damp grey nearly noon. The wind was no longer content to push fluffy clouds around. It was bending trees at impossible angles, battering lawn furniture against walls, and tossing a plastic watering can around outside. By the time my coffee was going, the wind had begun heaving itself into the apartment building like a frat boy body slamming a drinking buddy.

I was sorting my laundry and hoping a hot shower would help my smoked inflamed sinuses when I heard a crack from out front. The cat went streaking by me and crammed himself under my desk. I looked out the window and saw that a large tree had come down in the courtyard outside my apartment. I went out and mourned the tree for a moment. ThenI called the landlord. Then I waited. I waited impatiently because it had started to rain and I was watching the still very active living room leak drip drip drip, wondering when the plaster is just going to come down. He knows about it and has me take $100 off the rent each month until he fixes it. It's been 3 months. His cheapness is outdone only by his laziness.

To pass the time while I waited (and to reassure myself that there was some way my landlord could be made to take care of the tree in a more timely manner than is usual for him), I called the town office to ask how long is a reasonable amount of time to give the landlord. I figured if he hadn't come or called by mid afternoon, I'd contact a tree removal service myself and take it off my rent but I wanted some kind of back up so I wasn't stuck holding the bill or going to housing court. I was referred to the public health department, several of them. Of the many staff members I spoke to today. Janet was by far the nicest and did eventually understand the situation and what I was trying to ask. Janet's boss on the other hand, wasn't and didn't.

Between those calls, my friend and neighbor A called from school to tell me that my ex was in the department today.

Oh.

I felt ambivalent, sad, and really angry. I wasn't sure why angry. He's got a right to be there too. So why am I feeling angry?

Since I can do something about the tree, I focused on that. It is concrete, removable. No one would deny that it is an obstacle. The solution to the problems it poses is refreshingly singular and not debatable: A big fucking tree is where it shouldn't be. Let's get rid of it.

I talked to folks at several different offices. I decided that maybe the promotions are based on degree of obstinance and spatial reasoning deficiency. Find out if you have a future in one of this state's local public health departments. Read the description below, then go to the diagram I drew (at the end). If from reading the passage below you actually have a reasonably good understanding of where things are relative to one another in this scenario, then you can answer phones for our local health departments, but you would not be allowed to hold a job with any responsibility.

Here’s a run down of what I said:

1) Hi. I live in an apartment in C_____. A tree came down this morning and I’m having a hard time getting in touch with my landlord about when it will be removed. I’m concerned because I can’t really get in and out of my apartment complex (usually at this point they interrupt for no good reason) because this really big tree is blocking the walkway out into the driveway (they interrupt here too).

2) The apartment building has a small courtyard which is connected to the driveway by a narrow paved walkway. The tree had been standing in the middle of this courtyard but it broke off about 10 feet up the trunk so the bulk of this large tree is lying across the entire walkway. Unless I had a chainsaw, there really is no way for me to get through the tree.

3) I can get out of my apartment, but not out of the complex. I can’t leave for work. I can’t get to my car. There is no clear path to the street or driveway because of how the building is situated. If the police or another emergency responder needed to get in here, they would have to leave their vehicles way down in the driveway or on the street and hack their way through on foot to get to these apartments. The only other ways I can see in and out of the complex would be to scale a stone wall, crawl along the roof of the storage shed next to the street side of the building, or go hike into the woods out back.

Ok. Done reading? Try to picture it in your mind. Pay especial attention to paragraph 2 of the description since that has the info that I usually had to repeat under close questioning several times.

On the plus side, the tree makes it pretty damned hard for me to feel like I am staying away from my department today just because my ex decided to show up. Indeed, I have a concrete reason for staying away that leaves me feeling less self reproach than if I'd stayed away on purely emotional grounds. Sitting here staring out the window at the broken tree trunk, I considered some of the anger.

My ex and I had e-mailed earlier this week about my dropping off more of the stuff he had left behind here. I had planned it like this - to drop it off today and to be scarce tomorrow when he said he'd be in and able to pick it up - so I wouldn’t have to see him. It still wrings my heart and casts a shadow on my day (week) to have that kind of contact with him. He seems fine with it, but I am not and I just can't fake it to myself or anyone else. If I stay home because of this, then even in the breakup I am still sacrificing my work, my self, my separate and independent life to the relationship. And this makes me angry. I had most of the whistle blower responsibility in the relationship, so I basically spent the last year finding new and exciting ways to get us talking about what was going wrong. I was not alway graceful. He was not always graceful. But I have a better memory than him and each time it came up, we were talking about all of the other times too. At least I was and I couldn't understand why he kept forgetting. I felt like a jerk most of the time, like I was picking on this poor fella who was just so stressed and lost and said he loved me still but acted like....ah hell. Between loving T and feeling bad about fighting with T, I just didn't get a lot of work done last year.

I do know he's not ok post breakup. He is just very good at walling off the bad. It's a family trait. The shit is there and not even too far below the surface but because I do not hate him I don't scratch or pick. I try not to anyhow. I try to accept that this is how he wants to appear, so for all practical purposes, this is how he is.

Oh boy what a rotten grinding set of feelings to be caught in. And there's just not much I can do but go on and on and on until maybe someday I am not feeling so bad about it.

But for now, today, I can blame the tree. An act of god, goddess, fate, or just a brilliant September wind threw it in my path.

Ok. Time for your local CT public health department test. Remember the description. Here is my very carefully drawn scientific diagram. Enjoy.

It is nearly 5 PM. It is cold out and the sky is spotlessly blue. My apartment manager just finished chopping out a path. What do I do with this freedom?