Bio - 36 in My Bio

Written in 2005

When we left the land and the RV for good, we feared the man who sold us the property might hassle us about it. Surprisingly, he allowed us to sign the land back over to him. By now, the old RV, if it’s still there, is probably home to the local packrats, just like the other abandoned one. I hope they enjoy it more than we ever did!

We began scouring ads and found a duplex with a management property. We’d have preferred a house, but none were available at the time. Besides, something seemed determined to place me as close to people as possible! It couldn’t have done a better job with this duplex, where we were sandwiched between a unit on one side and another duplex on the other.

Before moving into the duplex, we received a final letter from Queen Marjorie herself and an email from Miss Perfect. The message was insulting and insensitive, bragging about their new kitten, calla lilies, and minor cuts and bruises. Meanwhile, we were homeless and starving, and they knew it. Yet, they didn’t care. It was both sad and alarming to witness this selfish side of his mother, one I had always heard about but had never seen firsthand. Her behavior had been restrained when Tom’s father was alive because, while not abusive, he had made most of the decisions, preventing her from acting out. I truly believe she would have used Tom, even if it killed him, and she wouldn’t have cared if we both dropped dead. It was a harsh realization—sometimes the ones who’ve been in your shoes can be the least empathetic. She had struggled in the past, especially when her kids were young and money was tight, so I had thought she’d understand what we were going through. But as far as she was concerned, she couldn’t be burdened by our problems anymore.

On Halloween, we finally moved out of the motel, retrieved our belongings from storage, and settled into a rather spacious one-bedroom duplex, built in the ’70s or ’80s. It was larger than the two-bedroom house we’re currently renting. Both units formed a U-shape, with bedrooms in the back surrounding the patios, and living rooms at the front. The kitchens, dining areas, and utilities were behind the living room, and the bathroom was behind the garage, which was in front of the bedroom. The place had brand-new sculpted carpet in shades of brown and tan. However, the windows constantly collected moisture during colder months, causing mildew to grow along the sills, and the bathroom lacked a vent. The electric wall heaters were also incredibly expensive, even for a 1,000-square-foot space.

That first night, I had my first asthma attack since quitting inhalers, likely triggered by something in the new carpet. I almost wished I still had an inhaler, but I made it through.

The biggest flaw was the claustrophobic feeling of being sandwiched between Beverly, our neighbor on one side, and the other duplex on the opposite side. Those units were barely eight feet from our bedroom and bathroom walls. A mother and daughter reportedly lived there, though it became clear more people stayed there, and they had plenty of company. The sound of doors constantly opening and closing as they passed from side to side quickly grew tiresome. As the weather warmed up, they practically lived out back, making it worse. This part of town, though considered the nicest, was mostly retirees and disabled individuals who were always home. Privacy was nonexistent. We couldn’t even open the bathroom window to let out steam because the neighbors were always nearby, often with their own windows wide open.

Not long after moving in, I met Beverly while hanging wind chimes in the backyard. She was 51 and on disability, which explained why she was always home. She was quiet for most of the five months we lived there, except for about six times when she blasted her stereo until I mentioned it, prompting her to switch to headphones. The only other disturbances were her six grandkids, who stayed for three days in late April when they came to town for her wedding to her ex, the one who had knocked out some of her teeth. sighs sadly The banging from the kids running and jumping around was maddening, reminding me of how inconsiderate people had become, with fewer parents teaching their kids respect or manners.

By May, Beverly moved out, and Patty, along with her medical dog Freckles, moved in. I was dismayed to be so close to a dog, despite its purpose. Like Beverly, Patty rarely left the house. At first, Patty was considerate, retrieving Freckles whenever he barked, especially when the neighbor’s cats stirred him up by the fence. However, by June, she began leaving the dog out for hours and started blasting her TV. It was strange because, initially, she had been eager to please, insisting she didn’t want to bother anyone. Where her sudden indifference came from, I’ll never know.

The dog’s barking echoed through the covered patios, making it impossible to drown out, even with fans. I had to blast music just to concentrate. The noise even began to annoy Tom, though he was never woken up since he slept at night, the only time it was quiet. I wished I could keep a regular schedule, but I was almost glad I couldn’t. Being awake during the early morning hours was the only time I could think clearly and focus on writing. When Tom wasn’t sleeping, I decided I would no longer be the only one worrying about noise. They didn’t care about us, so we stopped caring about them.

As summer progressed, it became clear Patty hadn’t been honest when she said she didn’t leave the dog outside for long periods. It also became apparent that she was a bit odd, engaging in six-hour watering sprees and other strange behaviors. But the strangest thing was when she picked the petals off the rosebush outside our bedroom window, one by one, until it was completely bare within a month.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Patty was deliberately taunting me with her constant presence, or at least rubbing it in. It seemed like she was always outside, and she spent an awful lot of time on our side of the yard.

Although most of her visitors were quiet, I’d never seen anyone have as much company as she did. She’d have guests over two or three times a day during the week.

To save money for a move, we canceled our DVD rental subscription, and I cut back on my doll collecting, which had been shifting from porcelain to vinyl as my preferences changed.

In late 2004, I began feeling discomfort in my bad ear. At first, I thought it just needed cleaning, but whenever Tom checked it, there was nothing there—no dead skin in the artificial canal. With my many cavities, we started to wonder if the pain was related to my teeth. This theory seemed more likely after one of my upper molars on the same side as my bad ear cracked while I was eating popcorn yet the pain continued, sometimes worse than others.

Two notable things happened in May 2005. First, when the truck’s registration and license expired, we decided not to renew them. It wasn’t necessary since the town of K-Falls was small enough to get around by walking or biking, which we both enjoyed despite the cold, snow, and ice.

The second was that I started entering contests and sweepstakes like crazy, turning it into a full-time hobby. I spent hours each day entering for prizes like cash, electronics, trips, books, clothes, jewelry, and more. About a month later, I had my first win. The prizes were small at first, but better than nothing. It became my new thrill, like visiting a casino daily without knowing what I’d walk away with.

July was the final straw with Tom’s mother. After returning the birthday and anniversary checks she sent, explaining that we couldn’t cash them without a bank account, I requested that she send the money via money order or Western Union. But we received nothing—not even a note acknowledging my letter. That’s when I decided it was time to give her a piece of my mind. I knew it wouldn’t change anything, but it felt good to finally say what I’d been holding back for years. For so long I’d bitten my tongue and tolerated her and Mary’s shit and this was my way of “fighting back.”

By August, it took all my willpower to keep from doing something drastic to Patty’s dog after enduring hours of nonstop barking, day after day, month after month. That’s when we ramped up our search for a house to rent.