Of all the crappy timing . . .

Of all the blasted timing, got an apartment inspection notice this afternoon for tomorrow. My spouse is telling me to try to relax; he will take care of the deep cleaning as I go over my pre and post-op instructions and try not to stress.

Yes you can say we’re stupid for renting, but one has to have enough money in order to buy as well, and the cost of living goes up way faster than our paychecks. No, they don’t reschedule the apt thing – they aren’t even available to take calls for emergencies, let alone questions. They charge for regular wear and tear and threaten to charge if a repeat visit is needed for repairs (even though we’ve been there so long, things wear out, like caulking, non-water-resistant-paint on the shower walls . . .

Since they can show up whenever they please, no idea if they will arrive while we’re at the hospital or after we come home. My spouse is prepared to give them a lecture about disturbing me if it’s after surgery, since they feel they need to inspect every cranny, whether I'm recooping or not. I'd even like to put a note on the door something to the effect that “Please note when you enter, the person living here has had major surgery in the last 24 hours and you are stressing them out.” Technically said statement is true whether or not I would be home. Yes, I have watched a lot of television shows with con-men.

I drank my assigned 3 liters of water plus some, so yay. Still have to wonder how high my blood pressure will be when I check in, given all of this. My fitbit says my BP is much higher in the morning. Wonder if that’s a trend for some people, whether due to age, fitness level, weight . . . Interesting is all, since I have to get there at 5:30 am. I’m usually borderline barely acceptable on a good day, but throw in “white coat syndrome” of being at the hospital, getting what the internet acclaims is on the top 10 most painful surgeries, and stressing about the perceived violation of strangers photographing my home and belongings, hoping they don’t break things and wondering why they need evidence of what I have in my closet in the first place (suspecting drugs?) this is gonna be fun.

I suspect only one person reads this blog anyway, but if anyone by chance is reading this, I welcome any and all positive vibes you can spare (even if you read this later). I really don’t need the threat of eviction on top of everything else because they don’t like our interior decorating (they have complained about dust in the past, good grief people). Happy grateful wishes to anyone reading this at any time who doesn’t judge and scold me for putting myself out there in the first place.