drama

72.

Today you ate:

3 bananas, 1 pear, 2 zucchini (raw), 1 bag of baby carrots, 2 apples, some PB and honey (on one of the bananas) and a protein shake.

Today you worked:

11.5 hours

Today you drove:

235 miles.

Today you ran:

9.8 miles w/ 640 ft (around Boulder while the college kids were out partying).

73.

You and JMP drive up to Brainard and snowshoe through the mountains.  When you get up to the lake it's about 80 mph winds and freezing.  It's over a couple hours to get 6 miles.  The snow up there was anywhere btwn 4-15 feet high.  Beautiful day!

 

74.

Up at 3 am for work.  You had gone to bed at 10 and as soon as you got to sleep, the tv came on and B #2 and Millan were watching Django Unchained at full volume.  You lay in bed listening to the whole movie.  You ended up w/ an hour of sleep or so.  Then work.

11.5 hours driving through snowstorms in the mountains. 

As tired as you are after work, there’s still a few hours of daylight.  You change and leash up Rox and head to Chat.  You run up Green Mountain.  6.5 miles and 1,745 ft.  About two hours of work.  Beautiful day.  You stop at JMP’s and the grocery store but wearing your cold, wet running clothes isn’t doing you any favors.  You get an extreme chill.  Hurry home.  Shower.  It’s been a long day.  You spend the rest of the night on the computer.  Some writing, some time wasting…

75.

Your work day is short.  You come home and change clothes and leash up Roxypoo.  Out the door and straight up to Mount Sanitas from the apartment in a snow storm.  10 miles w/ 1,355 ft.  It feels fantastic.  When you get home, B #2 is home.  You and him haven’t spoken in almost a week. 

Sup / he says.

You don’t say anything.  He left for the weekend w/ his mess everywhere.  He’s been smoking cigarettes in the house.  You have nothing to say. 

You know / he says / --I think I’m just gonna give you your 60 day notice.

You’re evicting me?

Yeah.  60 days. 

On what grounds?

I don’t need any grounds.

Oh, so you’re gonna be an asshole about it. 

Don’t call me an asshole!  You’re the asshole! / he completely losses his mind here / --you’re the one who walks around here and doesn’t say anything to my friends, you just walk around like a sullen teenager!

Ummm, ok.  Loud and clear then.  60 days, I’ll be out / he doesn’t know you’ve already been looking at other places and just secured an OUTSTANDING apartment today.  Cheap too!

You walk to your bedroom and he’s cursing the sky / Come into my house and don’t say hi to me…

You are proud of how calm you remained.  It must be b/c your body is coursing w/ endorphins.  You take a shower.  Your 60 day notice was magically slipped under your bedroom door when you were in the shower.  He says Roxy sheds too much, you used his bathtub to clean her, you leave dishes in the sink and some other lame stuff.  Really?  Ok.  You’re both getting what you want here.  No sense making a big thang…

You go over to JMP’s and you both laugh your asses of at his 60 day notice.  He texts you and tells you he needs you to sign it. 

No prob / you reply.

Thanks / he replies back. 

76.

You aren’t able to sleep at your house anymore b/c there is no peace there.  He doesn’t clean up after his parties and leaves it for you.  You don’t clean it up so it sits all weekend.  It’s Sunday.  You run Roxy 4 miles.  Then you go to the gym and lift weights and do pull ups until you have no muscle left in your arms.  Then you do 4 more on the elliptical. 

77.

You initially met B #2 at the dog park right by your apartment.  He’d had some crazy x-roommate stories of his own.  He had a heroin addict for a while there.  He called the cops on him and the guy started shooting a sling shot at the cops cars from his bedroom window.  You promised him you didn’t do heroin and weren’t schizophrenic.  He was looking for a hefty price but you got the master bedroom.  You both agreed. 

Everything was perfect.  My house is your house, my food is your food etc.  B #2 was much more normal that B #1.  The neighbors had warned me that B #2 likes to drink. 

Like, what…drink a lot and destroy the house?

No, just drink a lot and slur his speech and argue.  And he has one of those blow thingies in his car.

That I can handle / you thought / --especially after B #1.  This will be cake. 

You drank w/ him a few times.  You both went to Cosco to stock up on food and cleaning supplies.  Split the price down the middle.  Stopped for a burger and beer afterwards.  This guy was going to be alright. 

Problem is, you work a lot.  Roxy is home w/out you a lot.  He had said he’d help out.  He had said, let’s feed the dogs at the same time and keep them on the same schedule.  Well, he doesn’t work.  He is a trust fund baby and doesn’t need money.  In fact, the enormous rent you’re paying him just goes to his liver.  He is home all day w/ nothing to do.  It’s not long b/f he feels like he’s taking care of your dog and holding every second of it against you. You always make sure Roxy is taken care of b/f and after work but in the mean time, it’s out of your hands.  He would take them to the park most days.  On your weekends, you’d take both dogs on some big runs or monster climbs.  They’d get 5-7 hours of exercise if you had a day off.  It seemed like a fair trade off. 

But then you started training.  You stopped drinking w/ him.  You started eating better.  You went to bed earlier.  This seemed to cause some resentment w/ him.  He started treating you differently.  You could feel the hate.  Suddenly the neighbors were all conspired and thought you’re such a bad dog owner b/c you work a lot (none of them work, all trust fund babies that drink too much).  His parties went later and later, even though you had to get up and train in the morning.  He started making rules for Roxy.  She has to stay in your bedroom while you’re working.  She can’t rough house w/ Pepper b/c they’re wrecking the floor.  You can’t use the bathtub to wash Roxy b/c it clogs up and needs to be snaked.  All the rules were new and opposite of how it was when you moved in. 

The other night when you came home, full party in swing and he wouldn’t even acknowledge you.  You said hi to everyone.  Went to your room.  It was 10 pm and you had to be up at 5.  You closed the door, hoping for rest.  The music got louder.  The laughing got louder.  You put on headphones and finally fell asleep around 2 am.

Yesterday, you followed his orders to lock Roxy up in your room when you went to work.  You came home 12 hours later and he had never even checked on her or let her out.  She had a dry water dish and was excited to see you.  He had spent the day partying in the house, playing poker and drinking.  He now smokes in the house too. You can only be SO nice.

AM:
Run JMP’s LSD Saturday run.  15 miles at 10:00 min/miles.

78.

When you first moved to Colorado, you didn’t know anyone.  You scoured Cragslist for potential roommates.  You finally found someone who lazily said / No, the room hasn’t been taken yet / and you set something up to go and look at it. 

The apartment was nice.  The roommate was ok too.  He was a young college kid.  Seemed like it would work out just fine.  Until a few weeks later when you were moving your things into the apartment.  Bad omen #1:  Roxy hated him.  Roxy loves everyone but she would not stop barking at him.  Bad omen #2:  Your first conversation was about aliens.  Bad omen #3:  Your second conversation was about conference calls.  He was weird.  There’s lots of weirdos in Boulder.  Nothing to worry about, you told yourself.  But as the days followed, the eccentricities came out.  He seemed very uncomfortable w/ you there.  So you treaded lightly.  Spent time in coffee shops and elsewhere.  He wasn’t friendly w/ Roxy at all.  One day you came home and he was pointing a crossbow out the window at all the people in the dog park.  You questioned him on it but he didn’t have much of an answer.  He stopped taking care of himself.  Stopped washing.  You politely told him he smelled ripe.  He took a shower and seemed to think nothing of it.  Then he started talking to himself.  At first, it was just laughter.  He would be up all night, laughing at himself.  For hours.  It would wake you up and freak you out.  Then he started talking and laughing to himself when you were in the other room. 

What’s so funny? / you asked.

Oh / B #1 became uncomfortable right away / --just laughing at old stories…old funny stories.

Oh yeah, I crack myself up all the time dude / you blew it off so he wouldn’t feel uneasy.  He would occasionally try to talk to you about religion.  He seemed to want to pursue some sort of religious calling.  You suggested some of the eastern religions.  When someone like him gets a hold of Christianity, all sorts of people usually end up shot, unfortunately.  You suggested meditation. 

One day you were leaving for work and he was in his underwear on the couch w/ his eyes rolled back in his head and he was drooling on himself. 

Are you ok? / you asked.

He half snapped out of it and replied:

Oh yeah, just tired.

That day at work, you called his dad and told him you were worried.  He said that he was too and wanted to talk. 

You explained everything you saw and told him you aren’t a doctor but it sure seems like schizophrenic behavior to you.  His dad opened up and told you of a whole host of problems and conditions B #1 had been diagnosed w/ since he was a kid, schizophrenia being one of them.  He’d been hospitalized.  Medicated.  Through treatment and they thought he was cured.  He’d gone back to school and gotten stellar grades.  But your moving in had disrupted him and he’d stopped taking his meds.  His dad got a court ordered document stating he needed to be hospitalized.  Cops came and got him.  He was non-violent.  Blamo.  You’ve got the apartment to yourself. 

It was nice at first.  No one knew when he’d be back.  Probably a few days.  You cooked food in your underwear, played music loud and play-wrestled w/ Roxy.  Life was good. 

Days turned into weeks.  He was very ill.  He could be gone a long time.  A month went by.  Two. 

Then you got a phone call. 

Brian escaped the hospital and we expect him to come home to you.

It was the night b/f the Boulder marathon and I desperately wanted rest.  As soon as it got dark, you heard him scrambling up the second floor balcony.  He tried the door, you had it locked.  He knocked.  You didn’t answer.  He knocked some more and eventually just sat down on the balcony.  You called the cops.  

My roommate just escaped the loony bin and he’s here trying to get in my house. I think you guys are looking for him. 

Cops came and took him away.  You heard it all from the other room.  All he wanted to do was sit down on his couch.  He wanted it more than anything.  Cops wouldn’t let him.  They took him back.  You had the place to yourself again.  Glory!

There was word of him getting out soon.  He’d been locked up for three months.  You found another roommate, one who’s not schizophrenic.  Just alcoholic.  You were sure the alcoholism would be much easier to deal w/ than schizophrenia, right?  Ha! 

Today:

Work 11.5 hours

Run 4 miles hard.  100 push ups, 100 squats, 100 crunches

79.

Day off from work.  You gear up and get ready for a day in the mountains.  Your plan is to run the entire way w/ no hiking.  That plan quickly changes to just time on your feet.  You are not feeling it today.  You cut the run short and get about 13.5 miles.  1,700 ft of gain.  Nothing special.  Just some muddy miles. 

You spend the rest of the day wandering around town and hanging out in coffee shops and looking at apartments.  You have no place to relax.  Your roommate is bound and determined to hate.  He beats your dog.  And his dog for that matter.  You counter it w/ love.  Or at least you try.  It’s your job for him to see love and compassion in your eyes.  You get so angry and you just want to react.  But then you remember to breathe.  So you keep Roxy away from home as much as possible.  No place to relax.

80.

You can’t sleep so you got up early and go to the gym.  100 down and ups, 100 crunches, run 4 miles.  You only have an hour to kill so you squeeze everything out of it you can. 

You spend the day praying and meditating and fasting.  Your living situation is quickly becoming toxic.  You and JMP want to move in together anyhow.  The next month and a half may be ugly.  You give your worries up.  You give them back to God or the universe or whoever gave them to you.  You don’t need the stress.  It’s all just a test.  What would Jesus do?  What would the Dali Lama do?  Love. 

81.

Rest day.  Roommate drama.  Looking at apartment listings.  Stress.