Category Archives: apartment tales

A Moving Tale ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

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Le Mutt (officially called Bonzai – because the first day he was around, he had the startling habit of throwing himself off furniture ) and I were quite comfortable in my apartment. While not an enormous space, it was comfortable and had a view of the Bayou unmatched except at the very expensive restaurant down the road. As a two bedroom I had visions of turning the second bedroom into an office/craft room. In actuality, it consisted of piled boxes and “stuff” – with the computer tucked into a corner of clear space.

The apartment laundromat was a matter of steps from my apartment, and when the machines were working was quite convenient. At least that is what everyone told me . . .
in actuality, they are never convenient.

Having the quarters,
loading the laundry,
carrying the laundry,
washing the laundry,
getting more quarters,
drying the laundry,
folding/hanging the laundry,
carrying the laundry (now occupying much more space)
and
putting the laundry away.
(rinse and repeat theme song here)

And, of course, with any apartment dwelling there are neighbors. I was fortunate in that mine were nice and except for the ones above me, relatively quiet. On my side of the building ~ next to me was a couple who were in residence only during the week. On weekends they went to their ranch to play with their cows and horses ~ nice job if you can get it!! Upstairs from them were a delightful couple with a five year old son that was going to be a stand-up comedian someday and a new baby. They were wonderful neighbors, and when I had my first knee operation actually showed up at my door during the recovery to find out if I needed anything and to check that I was OK.

The neighbors directly above me were . . . well . . . quite interesting and unusual. Aside from some strange activities and loud noises from above ~ there was the day (a beautiful Saturday afternoon as a matter of fact) they made rather passionate love (cue bad movie porn sound track here)~ with their windows open. Ah, the sounds of nature. There were a number of people out on the area in front of my apartment which had some BBQ pits and benches . . . they were as fascinated stunned as I was. Even Bonzai was stunned into silence and immobility.

But as I said, Le Mutt and I were quite comfortable where we were and not planning to move anytime soon. (cue ominous sounds here) I really didn’t want to go through the hassle of packing, unpacking and transferring everything into a new apartment. Besides, mine was quite convenient and I was settled into the space. Albeit a somewhat cluttered space, but MY space none-the-less.

The 1st week of January, the people next to me told me they were planning to move ~ something closer to their jobs. We chatted about options, and then they told me that the BC building in the complex had a 2 bedroom/2 bath available. THAT conversation was what set all this in motion.

When the complex was built ~ there was a supper club right in the middle. It had the charming name of “Barbary Coast.” From what I understand, it didn’t take the owner very long to realize that he really didn’t want to be in the restaurant business . . . running a large complex was quite enough. After several years, the building was revamped/redesigned with ten individual apartments. Because of the lay-out of the building, no apartments had the same floor plans and each had washer/drying connections. Because of the type of building it is, and the larger apartments along with the connections, demand is rather high for them. As a matter of fact, when one becomes vacant, the complex doesn’t even advertise them – current tenants rent them in a matter of days.

So, off I went to the office to ask about the apartment and to get the keys to see it. The apartment itself was about 150 yards from where I was, so moving wouldn’t be a major ordeal. Or so I thought . . .

–more to come

Pop, Lock and Drop ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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I will be the first to admit it ~ well, actually I don’t admit it to very many people. I am no good with locks. I had admitted in a previous post that the very first lock I drilled (to force it open) I made such a mess of it we had to kick the door in to get it open. It would be wonderful to say that things have improved since then, but a couple of recent events have convinced me that is not the case.

Recently, there was a problem with someone who was doing certain maintenance who had a habit of walking off with the keys to various storage rooms at the various properties. Normally, this would not be a problem as they usually are quite quickly returned ~ especially after an irate phone call from a manager to the maintenance person. Unfortunately, in this case, the maintenance person appeared to be walking off with more than just the keys. Now, I’m faced with a padlock that can’t be cut off with bolt cutters and a boiler in the storage room that needs some attention. I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t and never have enjoyed cold showers. I’ve discovered that my tenants don’t care to take them either.

That shouldn’t be a problem. I have a drill, the necessary drill bits and my wonderful expertise in drilling a lock. What I was never told ~ padlocks drill differently than ordinary locks. VERY differently. In an ordinary door lock/dead bolt there is a “sweet spot” on the lock that can be drilled and the lock will magically open…for everyone except myself. If someone has a diagram of that spot, I would appreciate a copy of it. I’m convinced that each lock has it’s own spot and only maintenance people know where that spot is.

The spot on a padlock is different ~ dead center evidently. I started up the drill ~ thought better of it, and called our handy maintenance man who was working at a different property. I’ve got drill in hand, lock in sight and cell phone to the ear. “Be careful,” I hear him say, “not to drill too far in or you’ll never get it open.” I found that very hard to believe. I got ready to drill. The involved putting down the phone as I had to hold the padlock in my hand while drilling. The mental image forming is probably very accurate.

I start in and have this sudden vision of having to be taken to the hospital with a drill bit through my hand, arm or other appendage. Maintenance had told me not to drill too far ~ I was really convinced that I really didn’t want to drill at all. I will admit it, having to hold the padlock while I drilled made me feel similar to a magician’s assistant on a board while he hurled knives at me .

Bracing myself ~ for what I wasn’t sure ~ I again took the lock in one hand, and drill in the other. At the moment I started to drill, the phone rang. Using any excuse to put down the lock and drill, I answered it. The maintenance man was about five minutes away and wanted to know how I was doing. I tried to be quite nonchalant about it all ~ but he knows me. “Would you like me to come and drill it for you”, was a statement I was not about to turn down. He arrived and actually talked me through the process. Yes, I held the lock and I drilled the lock and the lock did open. OK, I have to admit something: I found out (about half way through the lock) that there is a way to not have to hold the lock while drilling.

The boiler problem was quickly solved ~ and hot water was forthcoming. Maintenance went on his way (minus the key) and a new shiny lock laughed at me from the storeroom door.

—more lock tales to follow

Complex Complex Tales ~ Late Morning Thoughts

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This has been a very difficult week. One of the managers from a sister property “disappeared” on Saturday afternoon and no one had officially seen or heard from her since. I say officially, because there was some information that indicated she was at least alright and had not been in the hospital or such.

Monday morning I and another manager had to take over the office. This involved drilling out the locks as she had taken the keys to everything with her. As you have learned from previous posts drilling and changing locks is not exactly my specialty. I discovered that it was even less of a specialty for the other manager. When we were finished the front of the office looked like a tool shop with metal shavings everywhere.

When going into a situation such as this, the first concern is ~ of course ~ the money. We are a business that does not accept cash or checks ~ only money orders. This eliminates some very serious potential headaches. However, there are places that will cash money orders without even looking to see who they are made out to or what kind of endorsement they carry. This, at first glance, did not appear to be an issue. There are also several programs in place that prevent something such as that happening. It doesn’t completely stop it, but it makes finding out if that happens almost immediate.

Now, of course, we have two managers that are not at their properties ~ trying to make sense of someone else’s.

–more to come

Aging Rambo (Complex Tales) ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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As much as I enjoy getting out and doing ~ sometimes, with my knees it can turn into an adventure. I usually in the grocery store get one of those electric carts and enjoy terrorizing doing the aisles and getting what I need. I even use them at what are called the “box stores”…large over filled and over crowded stores with the very recognizable name(s).

The other day I went on a new adventure ~ a home improvement box store. I decided upfront that I would use the electric cart and enjoy the ride. The person I was shopping with decided that my cart would be an excellent repository for various items being purchased for our two complexes.

The screwdrivers, drill bits and such I didn’t mind. However, the sections of wood began to present a bit of a problem …and then there was the boiler pipe. A nice, round L O N G piece of pipe. I had that balanced on one shoulder, and had some ability to steer with the other hand. I’m sure it was quite a sight.

Then, I saw him ~ the “kid.” You know the ones in the store – totally bored, trying to stay out of trouble, but looking for something/anything to liven up the day.

Then, he saw me. The one with the large metal pipe leaning on his shoulder, in a cart that could only move at a certain speed.

The following account is absolutely true. (thank heavens there were no video cameras!)

Our eyes met and there was an instantaneous silent agreement. There was a slight nod from him, and a narrowing of the eyes from me. I moved my cart into position.

He ducked behind a handy display ~ but I was ready.

I raised the boiler vent pipe to shoulder level and waited. There were two sales people that stopped, turned and looked. I waited . . . A pair of eyes took a quick glance from behind the display and then he made a run for it.

I didn’t do anything, the timing wasn’t just right. Again, he took a quick glance and made a mad dash for the hand tools section. I fired (loudly, I might add) …once then once again … each time taking careful aim with my rocket launcher. He took a direct hit from the second shot…and fell gloriously, noisily and with great dramatic effect in the middle of the floor.

At this point (to quote someone) the parental unit attached entered the picture. I think he would have liked to be upset, but with several sales people and customers laughing and his child unit dusting himself off …it would have been very hard to be upset.

Understand that during this entire time not one word had been exchanged. I took a last look at him, smiled …blew on my fingernails and dusted them on my shirt. He gave me an enormous grin and a thumbs up sign.

I went on my electrified way to find the friend I was shopping with, he went with the parental unit to check out and everyone went back to doing what they had been doing before all this happened. I certainly felt better – I hoped that he felt better about the day. My friend, totally oblivious that a major motion picture scene had just been filmed, apologized for taking so long to find something.

Complex Tales Or Flip The Switch Henry! ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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The finals of the “it was a dark and stormy night” for this year have been announced and will be posted tomorrow night probably… (thanks EB for the heads-up)…Today was my own “dark and stormy”, or so I thought. Along with the usual phones, people, a boss wanting to micro-manage, demands on time and energy – I had my personal SWAT team here today (again with the vice-grip handshake!).

They really worked very hard to get a lot of things accomplished. There was much noise of maintenance happening ~ a lovely sound I haven’t been able to hear for awhile! I also went with them (at their invitation since I was the one with petty cash!) to purchase some of the needed materials.

While on the way back from the trip/expedition I got a phone call from a restricted number. When I answered it, a woman simply started the conversation with: “This IS the ________ apartments, right?” I answered in the affirmative. “And you DO have an apartment XXX, right?” Again, I answered in the affirmative. “And you ARE at __________________, right?” Once more (with little feeling) I answered in the affirmative. “We’ll be out,” was her response as she hung up.

I have to admit there was a sinking feeling of my heart heading for my shoes, and my stomach heading out my back. In all honesty, I inherited a complex (as I’ve indicated) that has suffered from severe managerial neglect (for lack of a better or more politically correct term) ~ and by taking on this inheritance, I also have inherited the possibility of some consequences from the city. I now made the assumption that the call was from one of the city departments (correct assumption) about to do an inspection (wrong assumption).

By the time we arrived back at the complex, I had developed a somewhat plausible plan of action. However, when I sat down at my desk, the phone rang again. This time it was a person who nicely identified themselves as someone from CPS (child protective services) who wanted to know if I had received a call from a parole officer about one of my apartments. Now, I know the person who lives in the apartment in question ~ which is directly above mine. The thought that they might be on parole was indeed laughable. Then ~ as Paul Harvey would say: “The rest of the story…”

It seems this “lady” with six (yes, six!!!) children had given her parole officer my complex and one of my apartment numbers as her address. This “lady” was on the “run” and they were trying to find her. At the end of what I would call a good bridge building conversation, the person made the statement: “Aren’t you glad we called rather than just showing up with police and all?” To which I had to agree. What I didn’t tell them was the image that ran through my mind at that moment, was a montage from several silent movies … that was best left unsaid.

The day carried on from there ~ and made me think my mind was beginning to turn to mush by about 4pm. And it was around that time I heard someone else’s mind beginning to turn to mush ~ or close to it. My vice-grip handshake friend was having real difficulty with something that should have been simple…even for me. (No snickering or sniggering behind your hands, please!!) The light fixture in the laundry room needed to be changed out. A new, improved one had just been purchased and was being installed.

I was watching the miracle of electricity being installed when I was interrupted by a tenant who took literally five minutes to tell me someone needed to clean up in parking slot 5. (Clean up in aisle four!) I kid you not — FIVE minutes. I had to interrupt watching to go on poop detail in front of the complex. All I will say, that was one healthy dog!

I thought when I got back, I would see the wonder of light in the laundry room ~ which had been absent for awhile. Unfortunately, there was no power to the light or the light switch. Everything else in the room was working as it should. My vice-grip handshake friend was reduced to vague mutters about ~ well, I’m not sure what they were about, but I have a feeling various people’s (possibly mine) ancestries were being called into question.

The two of us went through various scenarios, ideas and thoughts. We both prodded, poked and twisted various things to see if they would work. At one point, vice-grip handshake went and purchased a new circle fluorescent bulb to see if that was the problem.

Finally, about the third time we were tearing apart the light switch, it hit me. The breakers. Off to the electrical box ~ some choice words on my part now and definitely an ancestry called into question. I had posted about the maintenance man who is no longer here due to getting in between two people who were arguing – and both people turned on him. He had the key to the locks on those boxes.

Fortunately, vice-grip handshake and those accompanying him have great experience in drilling locks – and in moments we were into the box and checking the breakers. There it was, the one switch on the top. A slight flick of the switch, and there was now power in the laundry room, joy in my heart and vice-grip handshake realized that I might be mature – but I’m NOT dead!!

All in all, a satisfying day.

As I was posting this tonight, I was reminded of a Lewis Carroll poem I once earned three dollars from my parents for memorizing at a very young age…

I’ll leave you with that poem tonight:

You Are Old, Father William

“You are old, father William,” the young man said,
“And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head–
Do you think, at your age, it is right?”

“In my youth,” father William replied to his son,
“I feared it might injure the brain;
But, now that I’m perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before,
And you have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door–
Pray what is the reason for that?”

“In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey locks,
“I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment – one shilling a box–
Allow me to sell you a couple?”

“You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak–
Pray, how did you manage to do it?”

“In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength, which it gave to my jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”

“You are old,” said the youth, “one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose–
What made you so awfully clever?”

“I have answered three questions, and that is enough,”
Said his father. “Don’t give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you down stairs.

—more tomorrow
should be able to post pictures this weekend!!!

And Then They Arrived ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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It would be nice to be managing a larger complex, I decided on Wednesday. My frustration level was almost at optimum, and I was waiting for maintenance to happen. Most large complexes have their own dedicated (to the complex ~ I won’t deal with how dedicated to work they are!) people that are supposed to accomplish miracles in a short space of time.

I had been waiting for some not-so-minor things to be accomplished. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was much as the furniture story I posted the other day. This time, however, there were no fingernails to chew…they were gone. There was no one to yell at ~ well, no one who was part of the solution to the problem anyway.

Finally, I pulled in the “big gun” and made a phone call. To who will remain behind a discretionary curtain – but needless to say, help was promised within the hour. Now, we all know how that can go ~ one hour stretches into three or four and then into a day. I was prepared. Within the hour, as I was standing outside getting some air…a truck pulled up and it was reminiscent of a cop movie. Four burly guys flew out of the truck, one charged up to me ~ put out his hand. He shook mine in a vice-like grip, asked what needed to be done now and as I was stammering my response (yes, my hand hurt!) they were off on their missions.

I have since dubbed these folks my personal SWAT team. They accomplished in two hours (!!) what had not been accomplished in two days. I would have done a victory dance, but was afraid I’d fall in the bushes or the street ~ so I admirably restrained myself.

Today they were put to the test. I had three drains in three apartments that were backing up and overflowing…not a good sign. The SWAT team were dealing with issues at three complexes, but assured me they would be here today to get more magic done.

I should have simply trusted them – but … so, when they weren’t here in the morning, I started trying to find out what was going on. It’s not as if there weren’t other things that needed attention, but I was getting some/most/a little of those done as the day went on its merry pace.

It was now afternoon. And one of my more delightful (sort-of) tenants was coming into the office at increasingly shorter intervals to let me know that 1) no one had arrived yet and 2) the water was still backing up and 3) to give me a running tally of how many “buckets” he had taken from the sink and dumped in the toilet.

Of course, there were the usual phone calls, tenants and prospective tenants sandwiched in around getting paper work done (remember, in a weekly rental apartment I do everything I had a month to do before in 5 days…and then get the privilege of doing it all over again the next week!).

Finally, I was making phone calls at increasingly shorter intervals to find out what ~ if anything ~ was going to happen.

4:14pm came around and my SWAT team arrived…this time with only three members. There was the same exit from the truck as before, the same bone crunching handshake … and they piled into the work. And by the time I left for awhile at the end of my day, they had accomplished all they set out to do, and all that I needed them to do. A good feeling.

Now, I’m not sure what the tenant is going to do tomorrow without a reason to come in and give me reports ~ but perhaps (given his …ahem…advanced age…more than mine) he’ll spend the day recovering.

As for me? Tomorrow brings new challenges, ideas and keeping up with what needs to be done.

I don’t get the SWAT team back until Wednesday ~ but that is alright, as I can rest comfortably in the knowledge they will be here and will get things accomplished!!

Maybe I better watch out – they might start doing my job as well … Now that’s a thought ~

–I’m still unable to publish pictures … hopefully in the next few days …

Where Is The Song Writer When You Need Him ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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It’s just now the end of another exhausting day. A lot was accomplished, but a lot is still on my plate. One of the areas that made it so exhausting was trying to make a schedule work ~ that was totally dependent on other people. I had a wonderful couple that wanted to move into the complex…people I’ve known for a long time. Unfortunately, the apartment they wanted was still occupied by someone who I had gotten an eviction judgement against and have been waiting for the constable to serve the “get ‘otta’ Dodge” papers to complete the process.

Yesterday, another apartment became available ~ however ~ it needed cleaning, making ready and getting the furniture into it. The couple I know were ready to move today, and with numerous phone calls, it appeared it was going to happen.

Now, I’m totally relying on other people to get it ready and someone bringing the truck with furniture for their apartment and one other – so I don’t have to go through this again.

The couple (I’ll tell more of their story in another post) arrive at 1:30pm and start moving into the apartment. No sign of furniture. 2:30pm, couple has almost completely moved their things into the apartment. Still no sign of furniture. I have no nails left from biting them.

3:15pm, truck arrives. The Mrs. of the couple is happy because she can go and pick her furniture “off the truck.” I resisted ANY comments about buying fruit/vegetables or shrimp the same way.

3:30pm, somewhat burly help arrives to move the furniture and get it somewhat set up.

4:30pm, the move is now complete. In the process I’ve handled 15 phone calls and 3 people dropping by inquiring about apartments. (The saga of shifting locks around will remain for yet another story…just suffice to say, I’m not a locksmith I’ve decided.) I still have paperwork to complete and more phone calls to make.

It was at this point, a wonderful poem came to mind. With a little searching I found a copy of it, and I’m giving it as my evening meditation and thought for the day.

ERE sleep comes down to soothe the weary
eyes,
Which all the day with ceaseless care have
sought
The magic gold which from the seeker flies;
Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of
thought,
And make the waking world a world of lies,–
Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,
That say life’s full of aches and tears and sighs,–
Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is
torn,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.

Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How all the griefs and heartaches we have
known
Come up like pois’nous vapors that arise
From some base witch’s caldron, when the
crone,
To work some potent spell, her magic plies.
The past which held its share of bitter pain,
Whose ghost we prayed that Time might
exorcise,
Comes up, is lived and suffered o’er again,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.

Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
What phantoms fill the dimly lighted room;
What ghostly shades in awe-creating guise
Are bodied forth within the teeming gloom.
What echoes faint of sad and soul-sick cries,
And pangs of vague inexplicable pain
That pay the spirit’s ceaseless enterprise,
Come thronging through the chambers of the
brain,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.

Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
Where ranges forth the spirit far and free?
Through what strange realms and unfamiliar
skies
Tends her far course to lands of mystery?
To lands unspeakable–beyond surmise,
Where shapes unknowable to being spring
Till, faint of wing, the Fancy fails and dies
Much wearied with the spirit’s journeying,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.

Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,
How questioneth the soul that other soul,–
The inner sense which neither cheats nor lies,
But self exposes unto self, a scroll
Full writ with all life’s acts unwise or wise,
In characters indelible and known;
So, trembling with the shock of sad surprise,
The soul doth view its awful self alone,
Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.

When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes,
The last dear sleep whose soft embrace is balm,
And whom sad sorrow teaches us to prize
For kissing all our passions into calm,
Ah, then, no more we heed the sad world’s cries,
Or seek to probe th’ eternal mystery,
Or fret our souls at long-withheld replies,
At glooms through which our visions cannot see,
When sleep comes down to seal the weary eyes.
—Paul Laurence Dunbar ~ 1872-1906
–>digital collection here<—

The Case Of The Missing … ~ Early Morning Thoughts

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It was something out of an Agatha Christie mystery novel. Now, there certainly wasn’t the “clickety–clackety” of a train track or mysterious visions in dark tunnels or various instruments of death being looked over by a Belgian ~ but it was a mystery none-the-less.

We had hired a maintenance man for the complex ~ he worked for a week then mysteriously (OK ~ not so mysteriously) disappeared. I was awakened Sunday morning at 4:30am by someone telling me that my maintenance man was bleeding all over the road, and that I needed to come out and see what was going on – or what had happened at the least.

Not being at my best at 4:30am, unless it’s by choice (OK ~ I’ll draw a curtain of discretion about early morning awakenings!), I was less than thrilled about being drawn out of the confines of my apartment to something that was going to involve blood, flood or fire.

He, evidently, decided to intervene in an argument that was occurring on the street. The two people (one male and one female) thought that his intervention was 1) annoying and 2) not necessary ~ did what amounted to a smack down. This, according to initial reports, involved a cut on the head and being slightly shaken up. One thing I have learned over the years ~ make sure that you really are needed to get in the middle of an argument, or BOTH parties of the argument are very apt to turn on you, and you will come out the worse for wear.

My maintenance man had ~ as far as I knew ~ a head cut (which always looks worse than it is) and was slightly banged up.

The last I saw of him was as he was being spirited away in an ambulance. I really had no idea that the next couple of days were going to be as a James Bond movie (remember which one involved taking someone away in an ambulance?) without the car and gadgets to go with it. It seemed as if he had dropped off the face of the earth ~ or at least off the face of my complex.

I found out today, it was far more serious and injurious. He had a broken (not sprained) ankle, and the surgeons last night had to move tendons from the leg to repair tendon damage ~ to say nothing of the plate and screws that were now in his ankle.

Finally, today we got the “rest of the story” and realized that he was not damaged beyond recognition, nor was he incarcerated for the long term.

By now, I was convinced that the “Twilight Zone” had overcome me, and nothing was as it seemed. Because he had disappeared with the keys, I had spent $95 petty cash to get the locks re-done (which he had had the keys attached to his belt) and tried to make sense of what had happened. However, not knowing where he was and/or what had happened to him I was basically at a loss.

As I found out today, his cell phone had also disappeared during the altercation, and all his phone numbers were in the phone. Having faced a similar situation recently when my phone battery literally “died” and I couldn’t get any numbers from it ~ I could understand completely.

So now, I have a maintenance man in the hospital facing rehabilitation and wanting to work. This should prove an interesting combination.

And yet, life and the complex goes on ~ So, if you know of a maintenance man needing work … just let me know…

Sunday, Sunday – Oh, That Sunday Sleep ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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I really needed a silly time today. For the most part, the day went fairly well … OK, the day went. It started with 1/2 of the couple moving into the apartment today (my day off!) told me that the move would start at 8:00am in the morning. Yawning and complaining, I awoke at 7:00am to be somewhat ready for their arrival.

At 8:00am I received a phone call from the OTHER 1/2 of the couple saying it wasn’t going to happen until 10:00am. Not a problem, back to bed I went. THEN I received a phone call from the first 1/2 of the couple saying it was now going to be around 11:00am before it happened. I didn’t bother to get out of bed.

I finally emerged from what some people call a beauty sleep (didn’t work in my case!) and started my day. Finally at 3:00pm the first load arrived of the move. That was when disaster seemed to strike. The electricity was off ~ OK, not a problem. I would just go back and flip the switches. OK~ now a problem.

Last night my maintenance man decided to get in the middle of an argument that a man and woman were having out on the street. Unfortunately, it appears that neither of them appreciated his becoming involved and he ended up being smacked down onto the pavement. Of course, there was the requisite head gash and being slightly banged up. The head gash made him look as if he had been run over and being banged up made him slightly irritable and not feel very well.

While the police were not too terribly interested in going after the arguing couple, the ambulance folk were very interested in taking my maintenance man on a ride to the hospital. I didn’t argue ~ too much.

Unfortunately, the maintenance man had the electrical box keys attached to his belt. OK ~ no problem, the man and the keys will be back today. OK ~ now a problem, he evidently was kept overnight for observation and testing. I still have not heard from him nor from anyone that knows him.

Now, I have two halves of this couple (who may or may NOT communicate with each other) moving into an apartment that has no electricity. Thank heavens for petty cash. I’m going to offer them either dinner and breakfast in the morning or a Motel 6 room for the night. They can take their choice ~ but they are NOT allowed to call me with the decision. I can only imagine how many phone calls that would take!!!

I’m also hopeful that I can get down to the Comcast office this week, and get my Internet hooked back up. The problem isn’t Comcast or me. The person who lived in this apartment before me left without paying his bill (and it is a him as I know who it is!). I have to go down and prove that I am not this nefarious bill skipping …uh… person. At that point, I will no longer be using the office computer and will be able to post pictures on the blog once more!!

And now, for the silly part of my Sunday:

One of the most incredible marketing campaigns involved Marlboro cigarettes. On the side of each pack were “miles” and people collected those miles for prizes from the prize catalogue. This helped Marlboro stay ahead of the “pack” which advertising that cigarettes could do became quite limited.

Here are some little known items from the various years catalogues:

1. 1,000,000 miles: John Wayne’s bronzed lungs

2. 80,000 miles: The “Cougher”: “cough”– Lights on… “cough”-“cough”– lights off!

3. 80,000 miles: Marlboro Man ballet shoes and tutu

4. 100 miles: Bumper sticker saying, “You can have my cigarette when you pry it from my feeble, trembling hands.

5. 500,000 miles and a $10,000 contribution: The Senator of your choice

6. 25,000 miles: (collectors item) Jackie Gleason’s “Wheezin’ to the Oldies” workout video

7. 45,000 miles: Complete framed collection of Surgeon General’s warning labels

I drove past a Hollywood Video Store this week, and they were eliminating all the VHS tapes from the store at $1.99 each…at least that’s what the sign outside said. As the world moves more to CD’s and DVD’s … I got to thinking about that wonderful (now becoming a collectors item) invention the floppie disk that seemed so revolutionary at the time. I was sure I hadn’t lost it ~ and today I dug around in a couple of the “don’t throw this away, I might need it someday” boxes I have in the closet, and there it was.

Proper Care of Floppies

1. Never leave diskettes in the disk drive, as data can leak out of the disk and corrode the inner mechanics of the drive. Diskettes should be rolled up and stored in pencil holders.

2. Diskettes should be cleaned and waxed once a week. Microscopic metal particles can be removed by waving a powerful magnet over the surface of the disk. Any stubborn metallic shavings can be removed with scouring powder and soap. When waxing diskettes, make sure application is even. This will allow the diskettes to spin faster, resulting in better access time.

3. Do not fold diskettes unless they do not fit in the drive. “Big” diskettes may be folded and used in “little” disk drives.

4. Never insert a disk into the drive upside down. The data can fall off the surface of the disk and jam the intricate mechanics of the drive.

5. Diskettes cannot be backed up by running them through the Xerox machine. If your data is going to need to be backed up, simply insert two diskettes together into the drive. Whenever you update a document, the data will be recorded on both diskettes.

6. Diskettes should not be inserted into or removed from the drive while the red light is flashing. Doing so could result in smeared or possibly unreadable text. Occasionally the red light continues to flash in what is known as a “hung” or “hooked” state. If your system is “hooking” you, you will probably need to insert a few coins before being allowed to access the disk drive.

7. If your diskette is full and you need more storage space, remove the disk from the drive and shake vigorously for two minutes. This will pack the data enough (Data Compression) to allow for more storage. Be sure to cover all the openings with scotch tape to prevent loss of data.

8. Data access time can be greatly improved by cutting more holes in the diskette jacket. This will provide more simultaneous access points to the disk.

9. Diskettes can be used as coasters for beverage glasses, provided they have been properly waxed beforehand. Be sure to wipe the diskettes dry before inserting into drive (see item #2 above.)

10. Never use scissors and glue to manually edit documents. The data stored is much too small to be seen with the naked eye, and you may end up with data from some other document stuck in the middle of your document. Razor blades and scotch tape may be used, provided the user is equipped with an electron microscope.

11. Periodically spray diskettes with insecticide to prevent system bugs from spreading.

And of course, no day would be complete
(also from the same box) without some quotes to end the day:

He who dies with the most toys, is, nonetheless, still dead.
–unknown

The cost of living hasn’t affected its popularity.
–unknown

I am returning this otherwise good typing paper to you because someone has printed gibberish all over it and put your name at the top.
–English Professor, Ohio University

Q: How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: Two. One to hold the giraffe and the other to fill the bathtub with brightly colored machine tools.
–unknown

Q: How many minimalists does it take to change a light bulb? A: 1
–unknown

This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.
–Dorothy Parker

Diplomacy is the art of saying “nice doggy” until you can find a rock.
–unknown

When the only tool you own is a hammer, every problem begins to resemble a nail. –Abraham Maslow

The Beginning -Complex Tales ~ Early Evening Thoughts

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I had promised a number of posts ago, to start telling the “complex tales” about where I’m working. I’ve found my life once again full of delightful (and some not-so-delightful) people who can make my day more interesting than I ever thought possible.

Several weeks ago, when I hired on ~ one of the problems was maintenance…or rather the lack of it. We tried Toby in the job – and that didn’t work out. I did have someone that lived at the complex who was versed in some of the skills that were needed, so it was decided to give him a try.

One of the first things anyone managing or doing anything at an apartment complex learns is how to drill a lock. Yes, sometimes you have to change locks for legal reasons (usually having to do with an eviction) and there is no key. It is not difficult to do – unless you don’t do it correctly.

It was the end of the day, and R said that he would drill the lock for me – we were taking possession of an apartment that someone had vacated before the police were going to arrive. As he had never done this before, I showed him where to drill (there are two places) and how deep to drill (drilling for oil will only complicate the process). He repeated the where and the what for ~ and I started on my way home. I had to walk to the train to had downtown and then wait for a bus to carry me home. I had no sooner gotten to the train station when the first call came from R. Disaster evidently had struck.

I turned around and headed back to work. I arrived to find a very frustrated newbie maintenance man, metal shavings all over the porch – and a lock that looked as if it had been hit completely in the middle by a meteorite…there was a one and one half inch crater in the center of a three inch lock.

Now we are in a mess. The purpose of drilling in two places is to get the pins to loosen and eventually drop off and the lock gently, quietly and sweetly comes open. If not, you have to continue drilling in a circular pattern around the lock hoping that the screws from the inside will eventually drop out and you can twist the lock open.

Literally 12 ~ yes ~ twelve holes later, one of the screws drops – but the lock pins are holding strong. I now have a newbie maintenance man with steam coming out of his ears and if not-gentle conversation from him could have melted the lock ~ it would have.

I decided that the time for direct action had finally arrived. I really didn’t think the second screw was going to drop, the pins were there for the duration and I really didn’t have anymore time to mess with it. Since the drill was made of metal – I delivered several strong blows with the side of the drill to the lock casing ~ and the second screw dropped. And we were home free…except for the 2nd lock. Looking at R I asked if he was OK doing he next one. He assured me he was and with a quick motion of the drill, he began. It was success!!

I took out the sword of management and dubbed him “no longer newbie” on the spot…and again wended my way home. I also would never admit to him that the first lock I ever drilled on a vacant apartment ~ we ended up kicking the door in because I made such a mess of it. I have SOME pride left after all!!!

—more to follow