(I have something to vent. It’s stupid to the point of being ridiculous, but I’ve been dragged into it, and I need to get the details off my chest. For anyone who isn’t interested in the kindergarten-level behavior of grown women, please skip this post.)
Here is a combination funny/sad story from among the ranks of my apartment building neighbors.
One woman, J., has annoyed others for a long time by claiming the right to manage the very small public library we have on the 2nd floor. As nearly as I can tell, the upset is not about the library, but about her assumption that she should have control. I think J. wants control in this situation because she doesn’t feel she has control of anything else in her life. Sad, but not that unusual — this same situation is often found in church congregations.
Before I go further, I must add that she has annoyed many people, including me, in other ways as well — the worst annoyances are long letters of accusation and self-pity, over you-would-not-believe what issues, stuck under other residents’ doors. She is very troubled; many residents attempted to befriend her when she moved in, but no go — she pissed everyone off.
Player number two is another woman, S., who lives below J., and has been the target of J.’s accusations since the first day S. lived here. J. has accused her of not washing her dishes — this woman’s, S.’s, house is immaculate. J. went so far as to hang an air freshener on S.’s door.
Is anyone reminded of Junior High, yet?
J. recently told S. that she, S., wasn’t allowed to donate books to the library — no reason given, and S., a very shy woman, didn’t stand up to her. All this is hearsay. Someone heard J. arguing with S.’s kids, and jumped in. In the course of that conversation, J. was told that I am the person to whom complaints must be addressed.
But I had one letter in the mail, and two more under my door, from J., talking about her lawyer and everyone’s against her, blah, blah, blah by yesterday afternoon. I put them back under her door, and stuck a sign on the bulletin board downstairs stating that I was no one’s den mother, and I didn’t want to be dragged into these pointless arguments.
Now I learn that J. has written another letter, complaining about me calling her pointless. I’ve decided to ignore it, at least until and if I hear from the landlord. Otherwise, I am not getting dragged in.
This post sounds just as babyish and spoiled as the rest of the argument — oh well. I have to vent somewhere, and here is the best place. For those of you who have read this entire silly story, thanks for sticking it out. This is not a new type of post for the blog, just this one time thing, so I don’t scream out loud and give someone a heart attack.