That's a picture of my patio window. It shouldn't be like that, obviously. A year ago, we were promised a new patio window. See last winter, all that condensation got inside the window and unglued the taped crosshatching. So, how we got those gummy remainders in there to decorate our window.
It really shits on the view because the lawn out there, despite being the place where the dogs shit, can be idyllic on a nice evening. It's especially nice on nights when the Indian fellows are out there on the tennis court playing cricket. But, no, we tend to keep it our shades drawn because we'd have to look at that ugly nonsense that should have been replaced months ago.
See, we shouldn't have to beg. We pay them hundreds of dollars a month to live here, so why must we ride them to get some broken shit fixed? I bet it's because they know the dry wall is also shit and once they rip out the door, it will exposed all the rotten dry wall that's lacquered in 20 coats of apartment-complex white.
And it's not just the door that they've ignored our complaints or been slow to act. The paint was peeling on our bedroom windowsill the day we moved in. We said something about it right then. One year later, they finally replaced the windowsill because, turns out, the wood was rotten.
Really, what's most annoying about the window is that it's depressing. When we moved into this place, it was the best option we looked at. Seriously. Knowing what I know now about Madison, we looked in some supremely fucked up places of this town to live when we first got to town. But this place, it had us fooled. And seeing those tape leavings, like slug trails, inside our windows and the water pooling up in there, it just makes me feel how duped we were. It's like every time I look at that window, I can hear the leasing agent we talked to saying, "Ha ha! Gotcha, dumbass!" And all I can do is say, "Yeah, you got me. I'm a dumbass. You win leasing agent."
There's no point to draw back around to here. Just look at that fucking window! I hope that nothing like this, no kind of grand "gotcha!" awaits us at our new place, which we look upon with rose colored glasses more and more. Seriously, we're counting the days down. We're shopping for furniture for this future place. We've talked about painting. We have 52 days before our lease starts at the new place. And I don't really want to pack up all this stuff and spend ours lifting our thousands of books, but if it means I don't get that daily reminder that I made a two-year long bad decision then so be it I suppose.
Honestly, this window is like a bad old girlfriend you work with. Like you can't help but see her every day at your job and you wish you wouldn't have to, but she's right there by entrance...looking at you, eating her cheesecake yogurt thinking it's good for her but it's not the light Yoplait she's dining on but the full-throttle fat yogurt with chunks of cheesecake as big as eyeballs inside of it and drinking her coffee that's more sugar than coffee and she calls it some awful nickname like her "Browny juicy" or something like that that makes you cringe but for three months you convinced yourself she was hot enough, you know "office hot." Then you woke up. And the tape falls down and you have snail trails. And it sucks, sucks, sucks...and there's nothing you can do but look at it and wallow in your mistake.