Sometimes, it's all you can do.
Get home from a long day at work and every space at your apartment complex is full - except the ones that are a good quarter-mile away from any place that resembles your place of residence. (Sure, they all look alike, but your key only works for one.)
Someone introduces you to someone new and you don't know why, but you don't like them. All it really took was a look, but that was enough to know.
Said person makes a joke. It's really not all that funny. You know the one. "What has four legs and can fly? Two birds." Yeah, not so sure about that one.
Your kitten poops on the floor. But she's cute. Oh well. (Yeah, not taking that one from real life or anything, but, um, does anyone have any tips about that?)
I had a day like that on Tuesday. I went with a friend to a lady's house to do some household chore-type things.
Did you read Harry Potter? Do you remember Dolores Umbridge?

Now, imagine an entire house decorated like...that, and you'll see what I was subjecting myself to.
Except replace the kitten plates with geese and you're spot-on.
She was preparing for a garage sale this weekend.
Now, said lady still thinks she lives in 1985 (before I was born - by the way, my birthday is in 18 days).
She also does not comprehend the meaning of the word "depreciate." As in, "This GPS from 1999 that you're still trying to sell for $200 has
depreciated in value because it can barely hold the map updates and is the size of a small television set."
Same applies for clothing. Your 1989 silk top with shoulder pads out the wazoo would only sell if people were trying to buy things for an ugly party (or if they had the same taste as you do, which I doubt completely, ma'am).
Anna and I paraded the contents of her closet in front of her as she relaxed on the sofa.
"Don't take less than $15 for that top and bottom together."
"$5 for that shirt."
"Oh, no. I couldn't possibly get rid of that - it only takes thirty minutes to dry on a clothesline!" (I heard that one way too many times.)
I committed the cardinal sin about midway through the shoulder pad extravaganza. I pulled out a dickie (who knew you could buy clothes from Lillian Vernon, the place my grandma goes to for silver contact lens cases and personalized remote control caddies?) that had clearly seen better days and pronounced it "old."
Anna's jaw almost hit the floor, but Umbridge just smiled at me and said, "Well, it's going back in my closet, so I guess that doesn't matter."
Okay. I guess I just couldn't take it anymore. Clothes that would've been ten times better off being donated to Goodwill were only serving to fill this lady's pockets (despite the fact that she's going to find herself incredibly shocked come the yard sale tomorrow morning). She said she couldn't donate anything because it might end up in a family's house that she didn't approve of. And she...well, she only seemed to really approve of people that were similar to herself. As in, white. I was a little shocked to say the least. So I called a stained, yellowed, wrinkled article of clothing "old." I think it was the least I could do in this situation. I felt like I did it for social justice.
But I'm broke. I need the cash. And even if she's paying people $1000 to do work that won't even net her a cent...
Well, what else could I do? It's not like my protests would change her mind. Whether I want to believe it or not, there are people like her everywhere.
So I just smiled and said, "Yes, ma'am."
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therealljidol . If you liked the above amalgamation of words, please vote for me when the poll goes up in a couple hours! Just kidding - the poll's up here: Voting - Week 3 and you must be a MEMBER of the community for this week's vote! Sign up and vote away!