truck living

They complain about my footsteps on the floor boards.

They complain about my dog barking in the driveway at noon while playing ball.

They complain that I am up at night.

They complain about the a/c dripping onto the porch roof.

They complain that I steal their heat when heat rises and I am on the third floor.

They complain about smoke in the hallway, but the workman said that he, the workman, could not smell smoke in the hallway when I asked him impromptu.

They complain about my sitting out front in the sun when the nurse told me to sit out front in the sun for vitamin D.

They complain about my dog pawing his bowl in the morning.

They complain that I like to BBQ outside when the neighbors next door have a fire pit.

They complain about the dog shit in the backyard when I pay to have it cleaned and then they take their dogs to the backyard to shit.

They complain about human feces in the driveway that somebody in CaCaLand left and I have to clean it up.

They complain and threaten to call the police when I am arguing with my wife. I tell them: "good! go ahead and call them... do you know the number? It's 911!"

They complain that I cat call women "hubba bubba" when there is a dog down the street named "Bubba" who walks with his owner every day for the past 14 years that I have lived here. All I did was yell "hey Bubba" to the dog and his owner who are acquaintances.

There are too many complaints to list and then I am told: "get out of my house with nothing but the shirt on your back" and "get the fuck off this phone, you motherfucker!"

I suppose that the only lesson here is not only do you call a woman like you call a doggie, "Hubba Bubba," but that psychiatry is quackery in that when it was reported to the doctor that I was cat calling women "Hubba Bubba:" the doctor increased the dose!?

It is a wonder that they don't string me up and crucify me.

I complain about the squirrels in the attic eaves 14 years ago: nothing is down and now all the wires have chewed so that there is no electricity in the apartment.

I complain about items stored too close to the furnaces in basement or items placed in the fire corridor.

I complain about people owning too many cars and parking them all in the driveway so I can't park.

Those three things are all that I complain about to the landlady.

Yet, I bear the onus! and live in my vehicle!?