It's my (Pity) Party, and I'll cry if I want to

Saturday morning started off amazing. The sun was shining, but Evan just wanted to sleep sleep sleep, and sleep some more, in his swing. The beautiful breeze through the window somehow inspired me to pack and clean as though I was on speed. I was on a roll. Then both boys wanted lunch. I strapped on the Moby and worked a bottle into its folds, turned on the oven, whipped out a salad and chicken fingers.  In doing my power clean, I had neglected to change out of my spit up infused jammies or put on makeup (really, why?) It was exactly 12 noon, and someone knocked on our door..

It was our seldom heard from landlady and her son (the one never retuning my calls).  He wanted to see for himself, for the first time, the damage in the master bedroom.  Ok, fine, come in, we aren't mad busy. (Nor had I told them I was moving, making the box towers become elephants) So whatever, he takes a look, there's a Vietnamese conversation I'm left out of and then he looks at me with a smile. "Ok, I'm going to get to work!" "UMM..?!"  "Oh, my mom would have called you but she doesn't have your number" (In my head: we have lived here a year, how the hell does she not have my phone # yet? We live 2 floors below her..) "Ok-ayyy" They decided at one point, to renovate the bedroom...well, both of them...and the floors. The floors? Yes, the laminate is all going to be ripped out as well as the carpet in the bedrooms. The only "safe" place in our small 2 bdr apartment is the kitchen. Awesome.  And sure enough, right there on the spot, the wall came down and the carpet went out.  All afternoon was the sound of construction, and the wail of a baby unable to sleep amongst the chaos.  I really regret not being dressed that day, any chance of escape was shot down given that my dresser was barricaded out on the balcony outside the bedroom.  Two miserable boys + one miserable mom = one long ass day.  At some point while hauling out carpet remnants, LL broke the front door. I am still clueless as to how this was done by a 70+ year old, 4' 90lb woman, but the door was seriously done for.  Now the chaos and spit up shirt are open to the passers-by, and on a Saturday afternoon, there are quite a few. All are curious to poke their heads in. 
 After several days of ADN coming in and out as he pleases "to see the boys" the one day I need (and want?) him there? Gone.  Couldn't be bothered to answer a phone.  I'm ashamed to admit it, but both the wine and the tears broke out early that night.