A page from my personal diary:
On Sunday Tere cleaned the bathroom tub after the maid had cleaned it last Thursday. I had also cleaned it, concerned about her spruceness. Then Tere gave me a great speech about a small plastic trash bag. That we shouldn’t throw it out unless it was full of trash, in spite of the fact that remains of smelly food stick inside it.
Tere just told me: “I don’t understand how can you complain [in your book] that people didn’t want to listen to you if you yourself don’t listen!” And—another speech about the same trash bag about which I wrote a couple of days ago! Go figure: the crazy woman compares it with my autobiographical complains that my family didn’t listen the abused teen that I was! That I didn’t listen her that all garbage goes in a single (and already used) bag, and that she feels very bad that I don’t pay attention to her.
How could I pay attention to such a gigantic stupidity! I was correcting the syntax of Conservative Swede’s text that I will publish in my blog and… boom! The crazy woman irrupts in my bedroom talking again about the same trash bag of a couple of days ago as a paramount issue. That she had to tell me she feels really bad that I don’t listen to her, and that I didn’t pay attention about the same damned trash bag that we should make use of. I simply threw it out along with the garbage inside it but she obliged me to pick it back so that, after a few more days, it got really stuffed.
There’s no question: Tere will pay for this. As soon as I can flee I’ll expose her. If I don’t react now it’s because I’m living at her place. I couldn’t get a plane ticket until the 22nd of this month. I’d like to re-schedule before that!
This woman is crazy as a goat. Just look at the difference of striving to understand the Swede’s political ideas and the drama that, in various days, Tere did about a single trash bag. That the poor woman feels bad about the ecological waste, waffle waffle. And now that I write these words Tere is doing a super-super-cleaning of her flat, which the maid had already left fairly clean a few days ago.
The picture gets clearer every day: hysteric women clean their exteriors because they cannot see the shit and the Alien embryos inlaid in them (as in Ridley Scott’s only good film). Who could tell that, even without harassing me about my political views (I asked her not to do it again), there would be problems nonetheless? And everything because of a single fucking trash bag, that I had purchased with my own money with a package of plastic bags!
People are crazy.