Since I’m feeling ambitious with more consistent sleep, I’ve decided to clean my apartment and get rid of some clutter.  I went somewhat minimalist a year ago, so there wasn’t as much clutter to get rid of this year.  After dusting what furniture I still have (I have decluttered enough I now need only one bookshelf, a tv stand, a couch, a chair, and an all purpose large table in my living room) I vacuumed the place entirely at least three times.  I have that lovely light beige carpet that shows dirt and dust real bad.  It’s a pain to keep clean.  Still have to work on my small kitchen.  I’m doing all of this cleaning now because our apartment complex is having a Housing and Urban Development (HUD) inspection next month.  In case HUD decides to check random rooms, the management here is inspecting all apartments in two weeks.  We had a preliminary inspection before Christmas.  All I really had was minor issues that could be remedied within a few hours of cleaning.  Just because I’m a bachelor doesn’t mean my place is as filthy as a Neanderthal cave.

With paranoid schizophrenia I am naturally a little concerned about letting people I don’t associate with regularly just look around my apartment.  With our preliminary inspection last month I didn’t know what our new manager would be looking for.  It usually takes one annual inspection before I know what a manager will and will not look for.  A previous manager didn’t like that I had “too many electrical cords” on my floor.  But they weren’t tripping hazards.  Another didn’t like that I had my couch against my living room window. Claimed it was a hazard in case the fire department had to come through my window. Another was a stickler about dust and carpet cleanliness.  I got hammered on the carpet because the carpet is probably thirty years old and has needed replaced as long as I’ve lived here.  Not even a Rug Doctor can save carpet that old.

It’s always been nit picking and moving the goal every time a new manager comes in.  I’ve always been annoyed by subjective standards that aren’t quantifiable.  That’s why while I liked doing one act plays and speech in high school, I didn’t care for the competitive end of it.  Seems to me the difference between bringing home first place and finishing dead last is the judges more than the actors or speakers.  One time my brother and his best friend did a humorous duet skit that was unbelievably funny. But they were doxxed by one judge at districts and denied a shot at the state tournament because one judge didn’t like that they made a passing reference to homosexuality.  But this was twenty years ago.  As far as speech and acting went, if my audience went home enlightened and entertained I felt I did my job. I never cared about any judge whose opinions and motives I can’t even guess.

I’m not worried at all about these inspections anymore.  The first couple years I lived here I was.  I was paranoid enough back then I thought I was on the edge of getting evicted at any time.  I didn’t know the rules to the game of living in low income housing and disability insurance I do now.  I have been around long enough to see that the only sure ways to get evicted in low income housing is to not pay your rent, break the law, or keep a house so awful it’s a health hazard.  So annual inspection one of those things that it’s just a minor inconvenience to be endured for a short time.  But that’s pretty much the sum of my last few days.