Rain On

1330h
The much predicted rain came on while working on the farm, and so work was called off for the day. A three hour day doesn't pay the bills, but it would seem it was part of the arrangement, especilly given then number of ganstakalkers on the streets. More than Christmas time.

Another coincidental confluence was the hair salon manager phoning me up within 10 minutes of getting, back, and I had the opportunity for an earlier appointment, which I took. Had I not been there it would of been phone chase time.

And this afternoon became a laundry time; the work wear had to be run throgh the washing machine twice due to a load of dirt coming in from somewhere. I have done this many times, getting screwed for doing work clothes twice due to this flakey washing machine. And so, in parallel, and on the floor above, I laundered the bedsheets. Another first in the laundry Fuckover games, two concurrent loads one floor apart. Then later the perps made me very sleepy while online, still sitting in the chair upright. I couldn't lie down as there was no bedding on the bed. Even afterwards when the bed was made, they kept me sleepy for another session online after the 2x100g Milka chocolate was loaded into my tummy with tea. I suppose the outing to the hair salon was all about loading me up with brown food for being kept in a chair and having someone close by cutting my hair.

This wasn't the only test, as the usual stylist somehow got left out of the phone chase messages, and I ended up with a different male stylist. He was the owner, and went into great apologies as to the mix up, but hey, this bullshit goes down all the time. And besides, he had seen me a number of times before (playing it straight here), and could of readily recalled that I usually had a certain stylist as we had gone back at least two years. Besides, I have talked to him on the phone at least 3x, giving my name each time. But the real piece de resistance was to have the two stylists side by side at the sink bar, with each of us two customers side by side in the chairs getting our hair wetted and shampoo-ed simultaneously. I finally got my haircut as I had been feeling like a sheepdog of late. I also learned that I could go in for a free bang cut in between hair cuts.

And the shftless dudes were posted along the street for the two blocks when walking back from the hair salon. And lo, if there wasn't grass clippings on the sidewalk too, also abounding on the other side of the street on my way to the hair salon. I get it; cut hair = cut grass and can we find some energetic commonality between the two, and maybe we got the steel for the scissors and the lawnmower from the same foundry. Who knows, but whovever cut the grass did a good job of laying a skiff of it along my walking beat. And more obvious shiftless dudes hanging around for no seeming purpose on the way back, at, or after each corner like some kind of dystopic Fellini movie.

And lo, when I got into the apartment building lobby, there was a dude in the prerequisite fugly baggy shorts, and an equally fugly polkadot hat, and occupying center stage with some other dudes in a communal chat while blocking egress to the elevators. And lo, if one of them wasn't the former stentorian manager, looking fully disgusting as he always did, at some 300 lb. I always know it is a big Fuckover moment when they trot him out. And one more suprise, the fat dude was obstructing my view of the negro on the couch in front of him, only visible from the side when I elected to take the stairs. Yet another instance of "hide the negro", this being the usual couch loafer, and very likely the same one in morphover as the gormless security detail that erupts near the supermarket from time to time, sporting their barf yellow jackets.

And last year's farm co-workers are up to their tricks/gangstalk feints, having "forgotten" them, as in getting my recall deleted. The ass in the face, the head bobbing opposite to mine, the turban presentations, and senselessly clustering around me for no seeming reason, and then suddenly taking off to do something else. A new stunt is to come up to me and take some of my strawberry plants in my bucket to share them about for others to deffer them from heading further away to get to the box of  rootstock. Borderline rude I would say, not even to ask or explain, though I of course cannot complain that the rootstock was mine. I sense my personal boundaries are being tested again, under the guise of work.

Other nonsense today's shortened work day invoked, and might be the real reason for the rain onset and later haircut. I packed my lunch today in the usual stainless steel container, and after calling work over at 1130h due to the rain, I later ate that same lunch on my dinner plate that I would do for any lunch in this apartment. So it would seem that the perps want to test me eating the regular lunch (homemade quesadillas) that was packed for the field, back here after round-tripping from an aborted farm work day. And also, I usually have two kiwifruit packed in the same container, but for "some reason", the local supermarket ran out of the bulk kiwi fruit yesterday. This eliminated the kiwis fruit from the tin contents, possibly removing another source of variation for the assholes.

And regular readers will know that the perps keep me to much the same food day in/day out. These are quesadillas with an olive tapenade base, chopped chicken (acquired as cooked), and grated cheese on top. Same dish, with some variations, every day, save family visits and outings. Sounds like a science project to me, having the rats eat the same food. And it is most odd that I would put up with this lack of dietary variation, as it never happened before the perps went beserk/overt on me in 04-2002.

I am going to call this one done for the day, and ponder whatever gets fed to me next. It still might be an off-work day due to weather, continuing the lab rat diet research, and the effects of a stainless steel container separate from the food and environment. Such is the microscope I am under, infinite details and their permutations, combinations, juxtapositions down to every last morsel I put to my lips, and everything else too.

PS: wondering what to give a TI for Christmas or a birthday (hint)? How about acoustic dampening curtains, not that the perps would put up with this for a moment, and just re-arrange the noisescape as if they never existed. One can always try, and for other TI's, their abuse level might not be as much as mine.