If I ever thought I was beyond ready to get out of this apartment, I am whatever is after that now. I literally can’t handle being here any more.
Ants. Every time I think I’ve gotten rid of them I find about another 15. I can’t keep sugar in my cabinet, fruit on my counter, anything. I’m at the point where I’m shooting Raid at them at random and am probably ruining the paint on the wall and slowly poisoning myself to death. They’ve been wreaking havoc for months now and I’m over it.
Mold/Humidity. I live in a basement. It stays pretty damp even in the least humid of summers. This summer has been very humid. I am apparently allergic to mold and I think I know why now. Normally, it stays reasonably cool here in the basement, but not this year, we had to put an air conditioner in because I couldn’t take it anymore.
Chickens/Roosters. Earlier this spring, the guy upstairs built this jalopy of a structure. While some might look at this and say looks fine to me, it is far from fine. First of all, T actually tried to help Upstairs out a bit when he first started constructing this and had to leave when he could no longer stand the stupidity of how it was built. It is set on old logs with cinder blocks around the outside. Nothing is square. You can’t tell from this picture, but it’s shaped like a rhombus. Aside from the building itself, no other part of it is square, none of the door frames, the pen, the roof, nothing. Speaking of the roof, he sided the entire thing with roof shingles, and not even the way you’re supposed to lay roofing! And he used washers to keep the “chicken wire” up. Mind you, they are city folk who are not here all of the time, so I can only assume that their daughter who lives around the corner comes to feed/water the chickens. I have no idea though, because every time I’ve gone back there to investigate, the water has been dirty and clearly not changed. They are live animals! Live animals need fresh water daily! Oh and there are at least two roosters in there who within the last two weeks have finally figured out how to crow and have been keeping me from sleeping. I am convinced that they are now free range and are down next to my window crowing into my ear.
Upstairs. The people upstairs are not bad people. I just think they’re a little silly. They’re not the original landlords/owners of the house from when we moved in. They’re like off the boat from Italy and live in Brooklyn full-time (which is fine, by the way) and can’t really speak English all that well. The lady you can have a conversation with until she really gets into it then it’s all loud and fast and I smile and nod because she’s lost me. The guy can barely say hello. I don’t know if it’s because they’re from the city and they think it’s the boonies up here or they’re just odd. They lock the doors. Every one of them. All the time. We have a door that goes from outside to the hallway/staircase to the garage and down to our door. They have a door that goes into their house and you walk down the stairs to ours. This outside door is obviously a joint use door. She will be inside cooking, he will be outside mowing the lawn, I will come home and the door will be locked. One time my entire family came up from Jersey and I was still at the barn, and after opening the front door and looking to see who was in the driveway, they still neglected to unlock the door, thus leaving my family to sit in the car for half an hour before I got back. She cooks a lot of food and gives a lot of it to us. While I appreciate free food and it’s always good, she gives us so much (usually knocking on the door while I’m cooking dinner) that we usually can’t eat it all. And she gives us a bunch of different things and enough of each to feed us for a week. I can’t eat that when I have a whole refrigerator full of my own food.
Wooden Shoes. Ok, so I don’t think Upstairs actually wears wooden shoes, but it sure as shit sounds like it! I have been woken up in the middle of the night from a dead sleep from them walking around the house. They put in all new wood floors and man does it suck. Once I’m in my house for the night, I slouch around in ratty old slippers. These people must have a peg legged pirate doing sprints. At alll hours of the day and night. They have woken up guests of mine and stirred my dogs.
Laundry. Until now, every single place I have ever lived in had on site laundry, even in college when I lived off campus. I abhor going to the laundromat. Laundry is the chore I least hate and have no qualms about doing it. Unless I have to schlep it up the stairs, into my car, into the laundromat, use 2-4 washers and 5-8 dryers, then schlep it back out into my car, and back down the stairs. Then you have to decide whether or not you want to fold anything while at the laundromat just to get it done because you sweat your balls off no matter how hot or cold it is out and then have to deal with all the loonies and Mexicans in town. At least the Mexicans don’t talk to you and leave you to your business. Then, on top of that, when upstairs is here she does laundry literally from sun up to sun down. There has never been a time of day when they have been here that I haven’t heard the laundry going. I think she takes laundry from everyone on the block in Brooklyn and brings it here. Oh, and because she does so much laundry and uses powder detergent (I didn’t even know people still used that), she has twice backed up the septic into my closet! When I was in the shower and it started filling up over my ankles I had to jump out and run upstairs in a towel and bang repeatedly on their door to tell her to shut off her washer. She then proceeded to say, “Oh, it’s backing up because of all the rain?” I almost dropped my towel in astonishment.
Space. We’ve been here going on three years now. We moved in because we were trying to save money, and after our roommate moved out of our old house, we could only afford the rent so long. We have absolutely outgrown the space here. We have a lot of crap. And it’s very crowded when we have people stay here. Which, this summer has been a constant. T’s college aged cousin has been staying with us during the week and working for him. My dad has spent more weekends than I can count up here helping T with the house and T’s best friend lives in the city and crashes here when he visits. It’s like a revolving door and I’m ready for a bigger space.
This past Saturday night was the icing on the cake for me. T has been leaving the house at 5:30am not to return until after 9pm. He is exhausted and needs the little sleep he gets. My dad and brother were both here this weekend helping with the foundation. It has been hot and humid and everyone is stressed and working hard. We were all dead asleep. I awake in the middle of the night (or at least what I thought was the middle of the night) to my dogs barking. My dogs only bark if people are coming in and they are woken up or don’t know their footsteps. I starting yelling “hey” because I’m delirious and get up to investigate. I hear noises upstairs and then notice the outside hall light is on. T gets up and joins me in the kitchen. We here noises again. T goes out the door to further investigate and I hear him say, “Oh hey, Upstairs.” To which I promptly yell, “It’s one o’clock in the fucking morning!”. T who is half-naked shushes me and mumbles something about them owning the house, to which I retort that I don’t give a fuck and who drives up from the city at one in the morning. So at this point, Upstairs should realize that hey, we made the dogs freak out and bark, T was clearly just asleep, and there are extra cars in the driveway, so clearly they have guests. But does Upstairs say anything like oh, sorry we woke you up? No! He says “Hey T” and continues on his merry fucking way.
This instance I think is worse than the morning that I woke up after I thought T had left but came back in the house, only to find out that it wasn’t T, but the fucking furnace guy who had been let in by upstairs with no warning. This, after multiple times I have come home during my lunch break to find our door locked. We only lock it if we leave for the weekend. Which means they were down in our apartment and didn’t say anything, but foolishly locked the door. There is a door that leads from our side to their side of the basement in our hallway by our front door, which is much easier to use to get things into their side of the basement then going through their house and the fuse box is also on our side. But a simple heads up would be nice. And I would think a given. So needless to say, I want this house fucking done so I get out of here and be in my own place where I can come and go as I please.