Now that there's less than a week at my old apartment, my patience is wearing thin. I feel anger, disgust, and since I bottle up my emotions...I want to grab a baseball bat and "release" on the windshield of the junky truck parked in my driveway. It might not be the Christian thing to do, but damn it would make me feel better.
Since I moved back in with my mom, I've had a constant battle with the downstairs neighbors over the one and only driveway to the house. We live in the upstairs unit, but we're the only one with a vehicle. I moved out and moved back, but I've always had a vehicle and I lived there for a good 13 years.
My driveway...right? Wrong.
Every weekend I'm blocked in by visitors who park in my driveway. I try to let it go by, after all it's only a parking spot. Sometimes when I get home, there's a vehicle parked in the driveway and I have to park on the street. I rationalize it (somehow) and let it blow by.
This week when I'm trying to move things from mom's apartment back to my old apartment, it's like a picnic going on in my driveway. I know we don't talk much, but even a language barrier doesn't hide the obvious fact that we're moving out, and since the driveway is the only access to the apartment, that's where I need to park.
Rational thought would suggest sitting down and talking about it like adults. I think I'm nervous to talk to them, since I'm Mexican and I don't speak Spanish that well. I won't be there but another 5 days...is it worth getting all worked up about?
Small confrontations like these demonstrate a flaw in my social skills. For the longest time, I would rather ignore a problem than actually face it. Rather then give someone bad news, I'd simply avoid them. It's easier than dealing with a problem.
Being a salesman has taught me how to handle a lot of those moments. I know that being yelled at isn't the end of the world. I know there are times when there's no argument...you just sit and take it. Those things, however unpleasant, are a part of life.
But for whatever reason, I don't have the balls to walk up to these people and ask "Donde vivas? Porque I'm gonna go to your house and park in your driveway." I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, or simply hoping I'm doing the right thing so there doesn't have to be a confrontation.
I'm still at the laundromat...I can only hope the downstairs neighbors have gone inside by the time I get back.