how a blue tarp ruined my life

the series of unfortunate events really began that day in dr. webb's office. "i'm concerned about the mole on the bottom of your foot as well as the one in the middle of your chest," said the dermatologist. "since they might be cancerous, i'd like to just cut them off right now," he said matter-of-factly. i panicked, not emotionally prepared for surgery right then. "i'll be back in two weeks for a wedding," i said somewhat frantically, trying to get out of lying down on the paper covered plastic reclining chair and having my dermatologist cut holes out of my skin as if he were doing an art project. "no, no, i can do it right now. i'll only take five minutes," he said as the nurse walked in. it was awful. while i couldn't exactly feel the knife cutting my skin, i felt him pinch up the surrounding skin and felt the pressure of the knife enough to make me woozy and sweaty. good thing i didn't end up going to med school.

so then i hopped (literally) on a redeye to boston where i'll be for the summer. at least i'm going to a beautiful apartment near harvard square and can rest my foot and look out the window for a while, i thought to myself as i staggered off the plane jet-lagged and sore. i finally made it to my apartment and opened the door, only to be greeted by the sound of drills outside the windows, scaffolding, and construction workers directly outside my window. all this covered by a tremendous blue tarp, shutting out all natural light or view of the outside. a slip of paper on the ground notified all residents that the construction had begun its third phase and to keep all windows closed from 8am to 5pm so dust did not get into the units. thank you for your patience, it read, not very apologetically.

what else does one do in a situation like that but fall on the couch in tears, sobbing uncontrollably? i was so deep in self-pity after having been chopped up ruthlessly by my dermatologist, exhausted from jet-lag and lack of sleep, and miserably disappointed by my jail-like abode.

after i had cried out all conceivable tears and coughed and snotted my way threw handfuls of napkins, i immediately emailed the girl who is subletting me the apartment. i wrote a scathing, irritated, desperate email and then revised it to make it a bit more humane. after many emails back and forth, it has not been decided that she will give me 50% off the rent for the month (yes, a month) that the blue tarp will be making my once-lovely apartment a depressing hole. there is nothing the management can do, apparently. i have no idea why the tarp is up and why they refuse to take it down at the end of the work day. i have pleaded with the workers themselves, but they claim to not speak english except to say, "de boss say put de plasteek up. so i put de plasteek up." i try really hard not to start shouting at them. i think they speak portuguese, otherwise i'd explain how sad i am all the time because i cannot see the sky. el cielo, i'd say. no puedo ver el cielo o el sol o la luna. por favor.

every morning i wake up hoping the tarp will be gone, magically. every time i come back to the apartment i say a mini prayer, hoping the tarp will be gone, magically. and every morning and every time i return, it's still there. taunting me with its glowing blue-ness.

today i scrawled a note in desperate writing, "please take down or remove the plastic at the end of the day. i can't see outside my windows :( " and i hung it outside my window. it is now past 5pm and the tarp is still up. i am trying so hard not to be completely miserable, but since my foot is bummed, i can't walk anywhere easily to get away from the suffocating apartment. i have fantasies of cutting the tarp down myself, in the middle of the night, when no one can see me.

three days ago i found out the mole on my chest is "pre-cancerous" and that my dermatologist wants to cut out an ever deeper and wider chunk of skin, "just to make sure." i don't mean to sound ungrateful, because i'm so thankful that i can afford health care and that he caught the skin cancer in time. it's just another addition to the pile.

two days ago i massively burned a two by three inch section of my arm while boiling water for tea.

last night there were thunderstorms and i had nightmares about random people crawling up the scaffolding to my window and breaking the windows and killing me. and the ceiling fan squeaks, making me paranoid there were mice in the apartment. needless to say, i had to take two benadryl to get back to sleep.

it feels as if the blue tarp has blocked out all my sense of joy by blocking out the light. it's hard to understand anything or do anything when i am surrounded by blue plastic. it's suffocating and miserable. i try not to be so self-pitying because it's an unattractive and unfortunate quality, but every time i look out the window, or every time i have to return to my apartment, the panic and dread well up inside of me.

i was listening to a jesus song yesterday and the words went like this, "even when the darkness falls, lord, i will not be afraid. i know you are with me, you are with me." i thought of how there is so much darkness both literally and figuratively in this apartment, and that i need to be satisfied in the blessings and peace my god promises and provides.