I returned my bed today

6/8/24

The company that owns my apartment building said they will illegally evict me. I am waiting. In the meantime, I returned that bed I ordered to Walmart. When evicted, I will order the smallest air conditioner I can for my tent. Maybe I will spray some water repellant on the outside of my tent, too. I certainly will not need a big bed. I was unable to do much today because I did not feel very good. I have a plan for tomorrow. It is my plans that are getting me evicted. We are not free to leave the slum. Crazy, but true. I also missed a last minute apartment-wide meeting to go to a physical therapy appointment. We cannot miss those meetings they say, and since we cannot leave, advanced notice is unnecessary, they think. I do not cancel appointments with my docs if I can help it. If I must, I give advanced notice so they can fill the slot. If I cancel twice without proper advanced notice, I lose my healthcare. That would threaten my life. My property manager simply does not care. People die here. She has a waiting list. She wants us to worry about some government inspection. I am sure they are doing stuff they shouldn’t. They want us to fix the problems in the apartments. I cannot. I need new counters that I cannot install. They painted the counters with paint that flakes off that we must not eat. I need a screen I will not buy. My shower has patches that may be leaking; I am not a plumber. I try to notice if the shower floor is going to fall in. The roaches are bad; I bought Combat roach traps because the pest control seems to feed then. Anything else is up to them. It is pretty hot. The ac must be out. Not my problem. I do not own this place. Thankfully. They were right about Legal Aid, though. It was useless.

Trump could go to jail

6/7/24

Even if he does, he will not do hard time since his safety requires that he be separated from other prisoners. Trump is now a convicted felon, and cannot pardon himself. I believe he would try to pardon away any federal offenses if reelected, but there is lots of my own opinion here.

https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.cnn.com/cnn/politics/live-news/trump-hush-money-trial-05-30-24/index.html

Cookie Cutter Medicine

6/6/24

I am scheduled for an upper endoscopy and a colonoscopy on the same day, a week away. I got the instructions for the upper endoscopy only. Everything is mechanized and automated. A video was sent. It is sterile and unhelpful. But I need real instructions for the colonoscopy. I happen to know I must take a laxative, for example. The problem is with a glitch in the matrix of the automation, all may be lost. I am still scheduled for both, but no one is able to alter the automation to send me Colonoscopy instructions or give them orally. The company that sends the video says they can do nothing. The office of the endoscopy center is unable to fix a glitch. The process is broken and unfixable. I may not get the endoscopy and colonoscopy because of a simple problem. But the doctor will not be informed of why it was scheduled in the first place. My cancer can cause inflammation, and I am hoping I have no damage. The doc will not know that. He does every procedure the same for every patient. But now there is a small problem. I feel like the docs are trained as bakers would be at an industrial plant. Every loaf exactly the same and the high volume is fast and constant. But the yeast was not put in my loaf. And there is no way to fix it. And my loaf had a special recipe. Totally impossible. The endoscopy center at UF is an assembly line. It is all that is available. No other bakery exists. I will end up with a loaf of something after waiting 6 months, or not, who knows? No one.

PS–I guess mostly I do not want the doc to overreact. I have been told I have a metastisized cancer before, and I would rather not go through that experience again. My cancer can appear randomly and do lasting damage. But it will go away with my chemo, and no emergency actions should be necessary. A biopsy might be a good idea, but no big worry. I am not at death’s door, but I feel like it because of fatigue. Cancer fatigue is awful.

PPS–I finally just went to the Endoscopy Center and waited for them. The glitches still make me nervous. I hope to talk to my doc beforehand to tell him no tumors can be removed, preferably, since they could go away. Biopsies are good, though.

Sad but not sad

6/5/24

One ECD patient responded to no meds and was in very bad shape. They targeted another mutation, not the ones currently targeted, and she improved dramatically. Still no cure, but things are happening. Who knows? Maybe I can take it in addition to mine. I do want to get tested for that mutation. I have to go through my doc, though. He is a tough sell.

Careful what you ask for

6/4/24

I tried to get a granny nanny for a day, and, let’s just say, no one will be able to afford that type of care. So I put an add on Craigslist. My email is overflowing with offers. Back in the day, I probably would have responded to it, too. I think side gig culture is survival for many. A weekend free or R and R just no longer seems to be a thing. I will say, when insurance will not pay, go for the kindest individual on Craigslist.

Damaged Canvas Legacy Project

6/3/24

I ordered some, many, photo canvases, and most came just below sellable quality. Wood showed through, wrinkles in canvas, etc. I was devastated, but I have come to terms and will not order any more. I plan to sell 8×10 framed photos only. But I found a use for them and just finished settling up a slightly informative and reasonably good but amateurish display at a public library. I thought I was out a couple hundred bucks. The chance to do some good and get some pro-environment messages across made the loss seem less important. The bad canvases went to good use, and will show in a coastal library for a full month. I was shocked to find I had a hundred square feet, and could only use one side. I hated to have a blank side, but the surprise was big, really big. I expected a bulletin board, but got the news last night and had to really get working. It will be up for a full month. I lucked out. No money, but something worth doing. I put my email address on it. It may lead to something…. But any excuse to go to the beach works for me. I created a legacy! Either pathetic or valiant, who knows? But I could not have done anything better today.

PS–I will apply for another location in the next couple of days. It is another public library. Eventually, I need to advertise one 8×10 on eBay. I had hoped for an arts and crafts market, but I just would rather not even arrive at 6am for set up, work all day, and take down at 6pm. I need to find and an evening market. Shorter, not involving am hours. That works for me. (The truth is that long hours are just impossible for me now. I lasta few, at best.)

Clear plastic scratches with as little as a bend, I found the hard way. Glass looks good, but shipping is tricky. I may advertise on a local Facebook site and hope to drop some off. A few places might sell for me. I need to keep trying…after I leave the beach. (I booked a campsite in case I needed an extra day for setting up. I winged a lot and lucked out and got it done in a couple hours. That was my day, and I am glad I did not try to drive back. Then luck gave me a day to take pictures at the rocky beach nearby.)

Not crazy

6/2/24

People thought I was crazy when I referred to the landlord’s roving band of thugs. The property manager has a cult-like following, including the local housing board Section 8 administrator and a policeman who has a car here. Beyond that, she regularly threatens to cancel people’s leases to control them. Yes, she has control over lots of people in the building, and some of them are able bodied, making a rovng band of thugs I need to look out for. There is almost no one she cannot con or force. She has the entire local sheriff’s office in her back pocket. I made no exaggeration.

My camping trip…

6/1/24

…was wonderful. The first night actually got chilly enough to need a light blanket. There was a torrential downpour the second day. It had high winds and made a shallow sea everywhere. I had packed up my tent to switch sites, not unusual with last minute bookings, and fell asleep in my car as the rain pinged and wind rocked my little Nissan. The rain ended and no more fell after I got set up again. I walked at Anastasia State Park to enjoy the beach and snap some pics of baby raccoons; the threesome was still so small they had overwhelming cuteness that the adults lose. The second day I went to Fort Matanzas and rode the boat again…. Overall, it could not have gone better. Yeah, I was sick, very sick, but that is why I went. I dreaded returning to my slum. I am just so glad I went. I am about to plan another escape.

I Promise

5/31/24

I will get a blood test in Gainesville, even if I do not need one, in case I do not have an appointment, so I do not have to go listen to information that does not concern me while my lease is threatened. Avoiding my slumlord will help my mental and physical health.

I will never, ever, go to another “event” at the slum.

I will never try to make friends at the slum, better to look elsewhere. Too much can go wrong when people are constantly abused and threatened.

I will never worry about an inspection. My place is never too dirty.

I will join at least one group that has nothing to do with the slum, so I can have a better life for a few hours. I will do laundry somewhere else, spend time at the library, get a bike and ride…anything to help escape.

I will go camping as necessary, especially when there are “events”. My health depends on it. My heart hates stress and lets me know with symptoms.

I will make the slum as little part of my life as I can.

I will continue to look for a better place to live. I know that means getting on waitlists. It will be worth it.

I am not my slum, and it is not me. It is just a place I have to sleep for now when not camping. I did nothing wrong to be there. I just made a mistake and underestimated how evil the staff was.

When my slumlord treats me like her bitch, I will refuse to be a slave and simply say no and leave for a while.

I will remember that my slumlord can only continue to abuse me if I let her.

I will remember that I am a much better person and never stoop to their level.

I will not send off for more damaged canvases. That was a costly and embarrassing mistake. Instead, I will use the money to escape my slum for a while. Even Anastasia, perhaps the best state park in Florida, is only $14/ night for me. Sure, there is gas, too, but it was definitely worth it. I think it saved my life when sickest, and it still seems to work.

I hate the Hell Hole

5/30/24

I hate the Hell Hole I live in. I am one of few who feel that way. Most literally worship the management and put up with all their abuse daily. I am now camping. I really miss it. I can hear the Chuck-Wills-Widow, the crickets, and the waves crashing. This is so much better. I needed some protection from the weather, but I was much safer overall here. My plan is to refuse anything the management says by ignoring their insane demands and restrictions. None of them are legal. I will miss every meeting and report every one to every authority I can find. I am tired of abuse, and will make it stop even if I have to force it. They have promised me an illegal eviction, and that would be okay. Section 8 housing is horrible, and my slumlord is worse than most. I need to find some medical office I can slip into to get a note, but I do not want to drive to Gainesville practically every day.

Okay, so I found the place is filthy. The grime is measurable in thickness. Most furniture is too scary to use in the common areas. The so-called arts and crafts class is just a lie, and the area is only used by one resident who scares the rest off. Bingo is real, way too real. I never want to go back. The pool has no lifeguard, so it is useless for me. The weight room may not be safe.

My apartment has paint on the kitchen counters that flakes and poisons, so I try to cover it. The rest is okay, sort of. It is pretty stark.

If I do get evicted, I will continue to camp with a new appreciation for not being in a slum and struggling with an abusive slumlord. Camping was simply not that bad. I will never be able to get into another slum, but one slum was one slum too many. I will not miss a slum except for the hurricane days, and that is just wishful thinking, as if the slum was ever safe. I need to remember the danger and the constant abuse and the slum will fade away and be replaced by trips to the beach in the panhandle, the only parks I missed.

Everytime I think about returning to the Hell Hole, I cringe. Worse yet, my heart rate increases. I am going to learn to live my life as best I can for a year, and ignore the illegal crap except to report it. But I signed a lease and need to fight it out. I do not deserve the Hell Hole or a bad rap. I do deserve to put blame where it belongs, not on me.