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 So we had a hiccup on Thanksgiving where we found up a wall upstairs is...leaking? Like, condensation was building on it, and paint was bubbling. My guess is it's from a shoddy repair job two years ago on the outside of the house, when they were getting the squirrels out of our walls. This means we need to clean the whole damn apartment to have people fix it, which was like oh shit stressful.

My body did not like this sudden stress. My tattoo raised for the first time; I broke out into a rash in multiple places; I started micro-shaking again; and a few other stupid stress reactions.

Friday was mostly spent cleaning and doing laundry.

We took a break today to go to the mall for like, 4 hours, then out to eat together. I didn't even want to go to the mall. So I almost cried when whatever barista made my drink thought a frap should be just flavored milk with large ice chunks. Z was a doll and had them remake it for me, which I know was big for him to do. The second time was passable and like a milkshake.

But seriously...what kind of mall doesn't have pretzels? This one. It was nice walking around, though. We managed to clock 3 miles. Y got a suit at Banana Republic, and I got some tea that was on a clearance at David's Tea. I enjoyed looking in all the fancy-pants stores like John Varvatos and Louis Vuitton. 

Dinner was great, a burger at my favorite local place. I accidentally made  Y tear up. I think that's what happened. I had already upset Z, and then managed to upset him, too. I know Z's said that Y's gotten upset over the conditions I grew up in, but I had never seen him react, myself. It's really hard for me to get it through my head that he actually cares. He even stopped himself from making a joke because he knew I'd take it seriously. (I'm having a PTSD flare). 

We're supposed to get our first winter storm tomorrow. My plan is to pick the cleaning back up. It'd be so nice to have this place clean and functional, but honestly...I'm not sure I'll react well to it. I'm so used to clutter growing up in a hoarded house. It's not THAT bad in the apartment, but when we clean enough there's some space, it feels a little scary.

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kaebe

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