Number Five is Alive! 

I live in a shithole.

Alright, maybe that's an understatement. As I waste my life away the University of Florida in Gainesville, I live in an "apartment complex" (I use that term lightly) that is pretty old and beat up. Why stay here? Well, it's too much of a pain in the ass to move all of my stuff, plus the location can't be beat. I do not envy people who have to ride their car to a parking lot to get on a bus to be shuttled away to a location still 10 minutes from their classes.

Me? I roll out of bed and stumble to class. It accommodates my lifestyle.

And really, I don't expect much besides power, water and fast Internet access, so I don't mind living here. But I think maybe years of college students living within these walls, sacrificing babies or whatever typical college kids do... just maybe it got to the building. Maybe it left an impact or something, 'cuz I think my apartment may be trying to tell me something.

You see, the other day, my circuit breaker started weeping.

my circuit breakerReally. I'm not talking about some moisture. I'm talking about a pretty decent stream of clear fluids coming out of the individual switches on the circuit breaker in my apartment for a good twelve hours or so. Leaving a giant puddle on the tile floor.

It's the leak that won't go away. Or maybe something more.

We had a problem a few weeks ago where a boil formed on the roof of our downstairs bathroom. Apparently a pipe bust or something, and every time we showered, water was dripping downstairs through the floor. Like a big, white creamy zit, there it sat, dipping from the ceiling, just begging to be popped so it could ooze out whatever disgusting surprise awaited inside.

And so, since my circuit breaker started weeping, we've had to travel elsewhere to shower for two days as we await the front office for the apartment complex to open Monday, because, conveniently, the night manager changed his number and we can't find it.

But maybe it's not a leak. Maybe its an apparition, a sign from God. Like when hundreds flock to an abandoned church in Mexico because they claim a statue of the Virgin Mary weeps every morning - usually about the same time in the morning that the grass outside is wet.

Or maybe the wires in the walls are trying to tell me something. Maybe I work them too hard with all of my unnecessary gadgets and my hours spent wasting my life away on the computer, draining every last bit of energy out of the wires in the walls.

Perhaps it doesn't weep for itself out of pain or fear, but it weeps out of sadness for me and the bleak, lonely, nerdy nature of my life.

Or perhaps they're tears of joy. Maybe it was a lonely circuit breaker that's just glad to have some attention and appreciates all I do for it and how much I love it and depend on it.

Or maybe, just maybe, the maintenance guys need to get their asses down here and fucking fix it so I can take a fucking shower in my own Godforsaken apartment without starting a fucking fire and burning the whole God damn building down, for Christ's sake.

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2003 - 2005
Reverend Hughes