|"Alright, which of you idiots got the telekinetic drunk again?"
||[Jun. 2nd, 2014|05:19 pm]
David Alexander McDonald (Steven E. McDonald)
|[||Wait, I felt something!
I was supposed to be getting something of an early night so I could be up and ready to womble my way down to Rita Ranch to provide a little bit of help to friends who are moving to California. Best laid plans gang aft agley, as the poet mused, and my plans ganged agley with enthusiasm, or, as they tell you, life is what happens when you're busy making other plans (that, and "Want to make God laugh? Tell Her your plans." And also, "No plan survives contact with the enemy.")
The building that I moved into seems decent on the surface, and fsm knows my apartment is pretty roomy (as the last bits and pieces get moved into their spots, it's becoming very evident how much room I have.) the stairs are a bit steep, but I'll get used to them the more I use them.
However, the tenants here are...colorful. Which is why, at the time of turning in for sleep (as I'd intended to go to Rita Ranch to help friends with moving), I was suddenly greeted with a lot of crashing, banging, and general mayhem-like sounds. Wondering if someone had tried to climb onto my patio, I grabbed my minibat and looked outside. Nothing obvious. The chaos continued, grew much louder, and suddenly...CRASH! Also, the sound of a woman screaming profanities.
So, I stepped outside onto the patio, minibat in hand, just in time for another ear-piercing crash as the one unshattered window in the apartment diagonally across the breezeway from me exploded outward, showering broken glass everywhere. Looking down, I could see what I took originally to be the shattered remains of the larger kitchen window, although in the light of day it turned out to be a tempered glass table. Apparently the big crash I'd heard was her propelling that through the glass. Amazingly, it was level with my patio. Looking over at the apartment, through the broken kitchen window, I could see her wrestling with her refrigerator. She gave up on this and went back to smashing things, screaming at the top of her lungs, and wreaking havoc -- she apparently smashed all of the windows in the place, along with the patio doors.
The police duly put in an appearance, and I went down to talk to them and see if anyone had any idea why this was happening (aside from "She's mentally ill and needs her meds adjusting, probably" no-one did, but I was told a bit later that her brother committed suicide in April.) To my surprise she wasn't involuntarily committed -- she probably should be, to adjust her meds and to prevent her harming herself (at any time before the cops went to talk to her she could have hurt herself on the broken windows, or any number of other things. Accidents happen.)
Anyway, by the time I finally did get to bed (to lie awake for a while) dawn had well and truly broken. I was awake by 8am, but frankly shattered, and then other plans shifted down south, and the apartment manager wanted to talk about what happened...so here I still am. There's been further verbal explosions from her during the day, but the fridge never exited through the window.