Got a struggle that's been brewing ever since I made the brilliant decision to move out to the lame ass suburbs with my baby momma into a complex with over twenty buildings.
Anyway, this ongoing struggle all started Friday morning. I killed a large ass roach in my baby's room and then about two hours later I get a knock at my door. It's a pest control dude and he claims he's just there for "preventative" measures even though our hallway is a sporadic gallery of roaches and ants. Anyway he comes in and asks me if I've seen anything I guess thinking I'd be too embarassed to admit, but I'm yeah I just killed a big ass roach earlier today. "And he's really? Are you sure? No way? It had to have been a waterbug!..." And I'm like it was roach man, don't give that bull, like there's a big difference between the two anyway. Then once he realizes I ain't going for it, he's like oh they're probably just oriental roaches. Implying that if they were nicca or spic roaches I'd have a bigger problem. Motherfucker. He walks around and sprays in exactly one place and leaves.
Later that day I try to take a shower only to realize that there's no hot water, and that our AC unit, which has been broken for a week still hasn't been fixed. So I walk my ass up to the leasing office with my baby on my hip and a Negro League shirt and sweats on for the black power aesthetic. It's still before noon and I'm trying to give off the you better handle this shit now disgruntled look and they mindfuck me on some laissez faire shit. The lady's basically like yeah the hot water is going to be off for a week, didn't realize it was a big deal, what are you a little bitch? Oh and a ticket is out to have your AC unit fixed, we'll get to it whenever. Listen, it's whatever, you signed the lease slave boy. And I'm like yes master, touche.
Fast forward three days, and I'm still taking my dirty unwashed ass to work and going home to half a hot ass apartment with Asian cockroaches.