Posts tagged evidence

Stereotypical blog post

My goodness.

All bloggers write this post once. Or twice.

ohmygoodness, I can’t believe it’s been so long since I last wrote anything here!

So sorry!

I have no excuses other than lack of effort. And lack of pictures.

I kept telling myself to take pictures of the progress of my new home.

And then, a project starts and stops, and a photo would never be taken.

It’s a travesty.

And I’m sorry. Mostly to myself.

How will I prove to myself how far this house has come from when I first bought it until now?

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The snowman and the message

Here’s a story from what must be September or so. When does the football season begin?

It was opening night of the 2010 NFL season. The Vikings vs. The Saints. There is a lot of history behind why this game was going to be huge.

This video shows what was basically the end to the Vikings 2009 season. It was horrible. They coulda been, woulda been Superbowl champs.

So, the Vikings were meeting up with the Saints again, on a Monday night, no less. We were on the couch, game was on, window was open letting in the beautiful late summer air.

The neighborhood’s loudest motorcycle starts up. I get up to look outside. Nobody’s there, just the bike, rumbling.

It’s so loud it’s hard to hear the TV. An engine so terribly loud you have to close the window just so you can hear the TV… on the third floor!

This rumbling continues for at least 10 minutes. I think it was longer. I kept getting up to see if the owner was standing there yet. I kept watching.

Finally, there he was. It was the guy who lives here: One woman replaced by another + baby

I went stomping across my apartment. I was livid. I pulled out the first paper I could find. I wrote a scathing note about it being very fricking rude to start up the world’s loudest bike and just let it run when it’s warm outside.

He gets on his bike. Guess what he was warming up the bike to do? To drive it around to the back of the apartment building and park it in his garage! I flew to my front door.

I was ready to stick the snowman to his door.

I thought better of it, thankfully.

I burst into hysterical laughter. Can you imagine getting a scathing note on a cute snowman sticky?

Bringing tidings

Of course, the note above is not the note I wrote that night.

However, I remember that night for another reason. I was right in the middle of a great search. And this note was one of the last I wrote living in my apartment.

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The sky opens up before me

Two days after work was supposed to begin, again a note telling us there had been delays.

Note 11.3.2010

But, miracle upon miracles, when I came home after work, I saw that my balcony was finally missing. All the balconies on my side of the building are missing.

But sadly enough for some folks on the other side of the building, they’re still missing theirs, too.

No balcony

It's sort of a creepy feeling.

This weekend saw temperatures in the upper 60s and into the 70s. This is weather that should not be squandered in November. I was able to use my balcony. I can’t imagine if I couldn’t have.

Patio door handle

Locked in, like a witch oven.

However, there is still something that makes me quite unhappy.

I can’t open my patio door! I mentioned the warm temperatures above. My air conditioner has been covered and unplugged since September (when it snowed).

So, I have no way to bring cool air into my apartment, except my bedroom window.

When I got home today, it was 79.9 degrees in my living space. Four hours later, it is 78.6 degrees. Hopefully my bedroom is cooling at a much quicker pace.

I’m glad I’ll have a new balcony soon.

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Disgusting discovery beneath the snow

I’ve chosed the category “True crime” for this post because littering is a crime.

The view out my window on December 27, 2009.

A couple days after the Christmas Blizzard of 2009, the wind slowed and the air temperature warmed.

I had a pretty big snow bank on my balcony. I decided to fetch the snow shovel from my garage and move the snow off my balcony.

As you already know from this post, I first had to move the snow from the front of my garage. I was sweating pretty good. But it was a good feeling, to get moving after being locked inside for days.

The snow on my balcony was dense: each shovelful was like lifting a barley-filled pillow instead of lifting a feather pillow.

When I got down to the bare boards of my balcony, I couldn’t believe it. A cigarette butt. I do not smoke and nobody who visits me smokes. As long as I have lived in this apartment, nobody has ever smoked on my balcony.

I didn’t find just one cigarette butt. I found three. I believe my next door neighbors have been throwing their butts onto my balcony! It wouldn’t have happened by accident. I only regret I didn’t take a picture.

So I purposely threw several shovelfuls of snow onto their balcony. Happy New Year!

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Think she got fired later on

In the middle of last month, I had something happen to me that was so crazy and perfect that I can’t even believe it.

First, a little background information. My apartment managers decided to finally get the the parking lot fixed. Finally! However, that meant a few of us wouldn’t be able to use our garages (that we pay $50/month for) for “at least” two weeks. Just as the work was starting, I asked my apartment managers if I could pay half the garage rent ($25) for that month, since I wouldn’t be able to use my garage for half the month. The snotty little girl said, “I can ask, but I’m pretty sure my boss will say no. But I can ask.” I left my work number with her to give me the answer. Of course, she called me at home to leave a message on my answering machine to tell me no.

The work on the parking lot took longer than two weeks, of course. It was at the end of three weeks when my apartment people put up a sign saying we could start using our garages on Saturday.
(Note the ridiculous use of exclamation points. These people are idiots.)

The sign about the parking lot

On that fateful Saturday, my car was parked in the street from the night before.

Parking in the street for three weeks was no picnic, mind you. There are a lot of cars to park in very few spots on stupidly curved streets. One night during those three weeks, I just barely wedged myself into a too-small spot. I waited on my balcony for close to an hour for someone else to leave, so I could take their more suitable spot. When I saw someone leave, I raced to my car. But someone else got there before. So I drove around the block for another 10 minutes before someone else left.

So, as I was saying, my car was parked on the street that Saturday. When I left that day to run to the local Starbucks, it was about 2:00 p.m. I came right home, and parked in my garage for the first time in weeks! It was great! Of course, my apartment people hadn’t moved the barricades into the parking lot, but someone had pushed them to the side just far enough so vehicles could get through.

I stayed home until supper time, when I went to the grocery store. I had bought the makings for knepfla soup. When I got to my car and opened the driver side door, I noticed a note.

A little freaked out, I got in, locked the doors, and read it. It said, “We saw someone hit your car at 12:45 p.m. on Sept. 12. If they don’t leave a note, please call us,” and listed their phone number. My blood was boiling! I got out to survey the damage.

The front driver side bumper.

The front driver side bumper.

So the damage wasn’t horrible, but still! This was my first newer car, a real prize to me!

I got home, and called the number. I said, “Do you live around here?”

She said, “No, we were there looking at an apartment to rent. We live in Fargo.”

I said, “Did you see who it was? Could you give me a description of the vehicle?”

She said, “It was the apartment manager! We were there, waiting for her to show up to show us the apartment. She pulled up, and swiped right past your car! When she got out, my husband said, ‘How much damage did you do there?’ She said, ‘Oh, did you see that?'”

I couldn’t believe it!! My own apartment manager hit-and-runned my car!

I called the cops. The officer met me at my garage, after driving around the barricades. He took my report and looked at the damage. He called the wonderful lady who left the note. He said the lady also told him that the apartment manager said, “Oh, that’ll buff right out.” The officer said the damage wouldn’t buff right out, since it was through the paint and down to the plastic.

While the officer was there, the crotchety apartment maintenance man came over to tell the cop he shouldn’t be parking there because the concrete wasn’t ready yet. The officer told him there was a note hanging in the apartment saying he could drive on the concrete. After circling for a minute or so, the old man finally left. Can you believe it? Lecturing an officer.

The officer was able to eventually get a hold of the apartment manager. She told him that she didn’t have time right then and there to leave a note (to which the officer was snarky with, “You were with the people you needed to be with. You had time.”) So, she was charged and her insurance is paying for my damages.

Haven’t seen her working in the office lately. Serves her right.

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