Why It's Time to Leave the Neighborhood, Part II

You may think that because the criminally-intentioned guy has left the neighborhood, my life here is hunky-dory. Well, I am here tonight to put those rumors to rest: Life is not hunky-dory.

In fact, over the course of the last several weeks, it's become downright inhospitable.

First, a pair of American NGO-lesbians (really) has moved into the criminal guy's former apartment. Now, I have nothing against lesbians, even if I do largely disdain the policies and practices of the non-governmental organizations I suspect they serve. But they tend to throw obnoxious parties on their over-sized balcony, with lots of giggling girls in attendance.

This might be less of a problem if the neighbors to the right of them hadn't bought a series of small yapping dogs. At night, they leave these dogs out on the roof. The dogs then start yapping in response to the retards yapping on the balcony next to them.

And if perchance no one is sitting on the balcony gabbing away unnecessarily, the dogs attack each other. From the sound of it, there is one giant "bully" dog that likes to pick on a smaller, more cowardly dog. I hear its shrieks pierce the dark night air; they degenerate into minutes-long screaming, then whimpering, as though dying a multitude of deaths, night after night. What sort of person does this to their dogs?

Don't get me started on the guy on the other side of the lesbians. I simply do not know how one human being can be so inconsiderate of everyone else in the community. He likes to play the guitar at night. Loudly. In addition, he thinks he can sing--except that he really can't. His gravelly, strained voice slides around and slips out of register on every single note! And loudly! So loudly that after slamming my windows shut and shoving earplugs in, it still keeps me awake. This never seems to bother me during the day, but it sure does at, oh, say 3:44 am.

Then there's the unspecified female somewhere on the block that has been noisily having sex just after dark, wailing and moaning like a cheap whore. So loudly that it's embarrassing to have guests over at my house.

This has all started at once; none of this human misery was here a month ago. None of what I am saying is an exaggeration, either. This is literal fact that I am reporting, which is what makes it so annoying.

Right now, the lesbians are hosting a massive Friday-night party. All of them (there are maybe 5 or more) seem to be talking at the same time about literally nothing...gibbering away like birds. They take turns enthusiastically shouting nonsense syllables over all the others (to whom, exactly, it remains uncertain). There are a couple of loud-mouthed British and Australian males. Every so often, they all erupt in obnoxiously loud, sycophantic laughter. This has been going on for 4 hours, and is not likely to let up any time before sunrise.

I'm hypothyroid, and consequently, exhausted and grumpy. I don't want to hear about it. There are presumably social venues for this sort of thing on Friday nights, ladies. Now stop acting like the obnoxious white American female trash that gets me stereotyped on all the message boards. Go away.

What happened to the mini-nuclear cannons I wanted to invent? The one that shoots mini-neutron bombs, thereby disintegrating its targets upon impact? They were supposed to be attached to the car to eliminate self-centered drivers on I-71, but they would be so very useful right now.

My position and plan of attack

This Is What Hypothyroidism Is

Some symptoms of hypothyroidism:

• Depression
• Cold intolerance
• Menstrual irregularities
• Sleep disturbances
• Cognitive impairment
• FATIGUE**

"Fatigue". Hypothyroidism has redefined what "fatigue" means to me. I used to think I felt "fatigue" after pulling an all-nighter. I thought that running a mile was the most physically exhausting thing I had ever done. I now long for those innocent days.

If, for some inexplicable reason, you want to know how I was feeling, go out one evening and do heavy physical labor. Till dawn. Come home and relax for half an hour or so, just until it's time to get up for work.

Can you feel the creaky, aching exhaustion pervading every last fiber in your body? You just want to lie down again, but you can't, because you have the whole day ahead of you, and you must spend it being energetic, patient, and very, very happy.

Throughout your pathetically short four-hour day, you find yourself failing miserably. You are unnaturally sleepy. People are asking you things--important things!--and you can't muster the energy to give much more than an apathetic, half-assed answer based on your flawed understanding of their semi-coherent words. You could be falling from the sky in a burning jet plane, but dammit, who cares? The only thing you want from life is to close your eyes! And thus the day carries on.

When it's all over, you can't actually remember what you talked about, who you talked to, or if any of this actually happened or if it was another one of those vivid dreams that keep you flailing around all night.

You're vaguely aware as you walk home, that some other beings are moving around you, but your swollen, blackened eyes are too overwhelmed by the sun and the non-existent fog for you to properly acknowledge their existence. You're also vaguely aware that the air is much, much too hot and that your body is wracked with nauseating shooting pains.

But it doesn't matter that your body is self-destructing, as long as you can lie down. Your sole purpose in life has become lying down in bed for the remaining 20 hours of your day, eyes closed.

You're ok as long as you do that. But you're not ok if you try to do housework, answer the phone, wash the dishes, grade papers, surf the internet, or even keep your eyes open. You've got to ration your energy to one task per day, and usually that task is finding food to temporarily diminish your abnormal appetite.

Eventually, you fall into a disturbed, shallow sleep from which you awaken every two hours to go to the bathroom, hungry and haunted by your dreams, which are somehow more real than your waking hours.

You wake up in the morning--face puffy, lips puffy, hands puffy, feet and ankles puffy, knees hardly able to bend, your belly distended from fat and water retention--and as conscious thought begins to piece itself together, you slowly realize that today--you get to do it all over again.

Laptop Fixed. Thyroid Down!

I have a lot of stuff to say about pretty much everything, and yet I've posted...what, two times within the last month?

I wanted to do it more often, but first my laptop broke, and I couldn't afford to get it fixed. This is especially true when the technician charges you more than the computer itself is worth because ALL white people have Croesus-like wealth capabilities and generate great piles of cash simply as part of their biological processes.

I speak in bitterness because I finally got a second opinion on the computer this weekend. As a consequence, estimated costs of repair were down-graded from $350+ for a new motherboard to $40 for a thorough check-up and CPU power block repair. My affordably-repaired computer now sits on my lap, its keyboard eager to channel my thoughts and emotions onto the internet.

So for the last five weeks, my laptop's been lying uselessly in a bag in the corner of my room for the ants to explore, unbeloved by friend and foe alike. But that was OK, I could use an internet cafe to write all the posts I wanted, right?

Wrong.

For the last month, starting at about the same time my computer ceased to function, I became completely and utterly hypothyroid. Damaged from months of viral infection and unable to function, my thyroid was finally down for the count. I became tired--debilitatingly tired. Tired like I've never felt before. I had the energy and mental capabilities of a malaria victim.

What this means is that, for several weeks, just getting out of bed was a major effort. Walking down the road to school was a major expedition of gargantuan proportions. Staying awake while teaching class? Forget it. And getting to an internet cafe was simply out of the question.

So that's how I've been this month.