Posts tagged venting

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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Build balconies while the sun shines

I told you there’d be a sequel to The latest in incompentence. This is it. However, this will be turn into a series quickly.

Some of the apartment-dwellers on the north side of my apartment building must be very frustrated. We are now coming up on a month that these people haven’t been able to use their balcony, while others have had their new balcony for weeks.

Balconies in progress

A job unfinished. New balcony on top, unfinished balcony below.

I don’t know what the deal is. I know there was issues with the weather. There was a blizzard just as the contractors got to work on that bottom balcony. However, you can see that the weather was gorgeous today… as it was yesterday.

Latest note

My side of the building got a new shot of hope. Yes, the project would begin again, meaning our balconies were soon on the way to the dumpster in favor of flashy newness.

Old balconies

The south side of the building. Waiting for new balconies.

But November 1 came and went. As did November 2. What is going on here? Are the apartment managers choosing the cheapest quotes for balcony building contractors — and therefore getting the worst service? What does that say for the quality of work we’ll be receiving?

I believe the apartment managers must’ve gone with the cheapest quote for snow removal, and that service has been horrible. In the aftermath of the blizzard I mentioned above, they never moved an ounce of snow. They simply waited for it to melt.

Current balcony

Sure, there are worse balconies out there. But what kind of standard is that?

I told you at the top of this post that this story would become a series. I plan to post an update when my balcony is new and safe. We’ll see how long it takes.

Close up

An up-close look at the deteriorated balcony.

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The latest in incompetence

There’ll be a sequel to this post. I just couldn’t wait to tell you what’s happening now.

We have horrible balconies on our apartment building. In the eight years I’ve lived here, they’ve gotten worse and worse. One summer, the world’s shortest and fattest man painted the balconies. But a fresh coat of paint doesn’t fix decayed, broken boards with the nails sticking up and out of them.

A week or so ago, I saw a welcome sight. A local construction company is here, replacing balconies on the back of my building! Granted, they don’t work most days and we saw our last sunny and 70 degree day on Saturday, but something’s being done. They’ll have a winter storm to deal with starting tomorrow. I guess that’s their own problem.

I’m angry for the people who live on that side of the building. It’s going on two weeks that some of these people haven’t been able to use their balconies. We are knocking on winter’s doorstep and these people can’t enjoy the few nice days we had left. It’s just not humane.

The part I’m focusing on today is the note below:

Notice the dates. I got the note on my door last Thursday. As of today (Oct. 25), no work at all has been done on my balcony. I’m not holding my breath. I’m just glad I don’t store a dang thing out there.

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Washer woman

When you live in an apartment and you don’t have a washer and dryer, you rely on the washer and dryer provided in the apartment building. That’s the best case scenario. Some people have to go to a laundromat, which I’d really be complaining about.

For me, the washer and dryer are located at the complete opposite end of my hallway. As if that’s not enough, some days, I use the units on all three floors to finish more quickly.

It costs $1 to wash a load and $1 to dry a load.

Tonight, I’m doing my bedding. My quite-expensive-but-I-got-it-on-sale Chaps brand Egyptian white cotton bedding. I want to keep this stuff looking nice. So I bought washing soda, which is pretty hard to find these days. I needed to let my laundry soak for a half-hour in the washing soda solution before washing.

It is so uncomfortable to sit in a tiny, hot laundry room, waiting for your laundry to soak. I brought my Vogue magazine which helped. But you just keep waiting for the door to open to a suprised/annoyed face. You can’t help but feel you need to hurry up, but the clock won’t tick any faster.

Which is why I only soaked my bedding for 15 minutes. I really hope this doesn’t mean it’ll start looking dingy soon.

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Realizing the rules have changed

First, I need to set the scene. I’m wearing a cardigan with multi-colored stripes. So multi-colored that I will only name three: olive green, salmon and sky blue. And I’m wearing a long jean skirt with sandals.

It is raining outside, so I’m carrying an umbrella. It’s the umbrella I got free from Vogue when I signed up for a subscription. It is a pretty royal blue-red-cream plaid pattern. While quite chic, it does not match my outfit.

I feel I look pretty clownish. Not a big deal, but worth noting.

It is September 2nd. I realize I’ve forgotten to pay my rent. Luckily, I have until noon on the 2nd day of the month to get my rent check in. I leave work early for lunch.

In some careful maneuvering, I get out of my car, jean skirt, umbrella, sandals and all, and walk up to the rent drop-off. I see a sign that says, “Your rent is now late. Please add $40 to your check. Thanks!”

I know this isn’t true because it’s only about 11:40 a.m. I figure they put the sign out early, and head inside to state my case.

“The sign says my rent is late, but it’s not because I have until noon on the 2nd day of the month,” I say.

The girl behind the desk says, “What?”

“My rent isn’t late yet.”

“You have to pay it on the first,” she says.

“No, the sign on the wall says I have until noon on the second.”

“What sign?” says girl in the next room, but with a major glassless window-like opening.

“The sign on the wall says we have until noon on the second of the month. It’s the second, and it’s not noon,” I plead. Then I realize. It was probably a year ago since I saw that sign. The rules have changed.

“Per your lease, rent is due on the first of the month. It’s the same for everybody,” next room girl says.

I am just livid. I don’t have my lease with me at that moment. My rent check is already written out. My purse is in my car. It’s raining outside. My umbrella is perched on my shoulder, surely framing my face like a halo.

Here’s what’s going through my head, “If I swear at them right now, if I really go off, can they call the police? Could they get me for harrassment? What if I just don’t pay the $40? What if I refuse to pay? What would happen?”

I take my check, and slam it down on the desk. “I am so…” and muffle the rest, as I turn. (It was going to be ‘flipping peed off,’ for the curious.)

As I open the door, girl in the next room sings out, “Have a nice day!” Smiley face, smiley face.

That’s when my umbrella gets caught in the door. I keep walking forward in the rain, refusing to turn around, as my arm reaches back over my shoulder, my umbrella holding me back. I shake it free, in grand form.

In discussing with friends later, I told them I now realize how Steven Slater-like incidents happen.

They change the rules, and don’t put up a new sign. How is that okay?

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Keeping busy

I’ve been keeping myself busy lately. Purposely trying not to dwell on the fact that I’m still living in an apartment. At the end of April, I signed another six-month lease.

I did this with purpose. If it looks like I’ll be moving into a house close to the end of this six months, great. If not, it forces me to find a house. I refuse to live here much longer than another six months.

So, back to me being busy. I’ve been working out and eating right, with help from a new-to-me blog/Ning Network.

As we all know, it’s harder than it would seem. I lost nine pounds. Then I went on vacation to Daytona Beach, FL, for four days. I walked a lot, ate great fresh seafood. I came home having gained back four pounds.

It had taken me more than a month to lose those four pounds, so I’ve become quite bitter. I’m trying to get back to my good habits, but sheesh… Why work so hard when it can all be undone so quickly? I realize I’m just being a crabby loser right now, but sometimes that’s just how you have to be before you become better again.

Since I’ve been home, I started following Julia Child recipes from “Mastering the Art of French Cooking.” This probably hasn’t helped my exercise and healthful eating situation, but it has helping my well-being situation. It’s great fun to follow these recipes. I tape myself cooking and post about it on Facebook for my friends. My mom in particular loves this.

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