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Da new place
May. 28th, 2010 11:54 pmWe're still trying to get our old apartment up to snuff, albeit under slightly less pressure since Megan in the rental office told us that if we needed a little more time, "it's not the end of the world." (The fact that I'd just handed her the remainder of this month's rent might have helped.) The new apartment, meanwhile, is starting to feel more home-like and less alien, even with all the boxes we still haven't dealt with. That said, we're gradually discovering a few problems. To wit:
1) The upstairs hallway leading to our apartment is dark. Very dark. As in fumbling with keys in the vague hopes of bulls-eying a keyhole levels of dark. This is more dark than I want in an area where narcotic-enhanced transgressors with pointy things and dark designs might by skulking about.
2) The lighting problems carry over to the apartment itself, although not too badly. The annoying thing is that there are fixtures with identifiable light-emitting aspects located at strategic corners where light would be oh so welcome, except that they do nothing all day, unless they chat over a couple of Labatt's when we're not home. To make it worse, there are roughly 8763 light switches scattered about that also do nothing, making the whole affair the sort of party game where no one gets a prize and the one person actually playing is being pointed and laughed at. I have to assume the Bulb family and the Switch family had a falling-out several years ago over a canasta incident or something and still aren't talking.
3) We have a teensy issue with the window screens, in that we don't have any. Well, okay, the small bedroom has brand spanking new windows with built-in screens, but that room is the cheese that stands alone, and we don't use it nearly enough to take advantage. For the other windows, we have lovely malformed good-luck-balancing-this-on-the-sill removable screens, which would be lovely if they weren't three inches too short. We call it a problem; bugs call it an invitation to come par-TAY. Having had the delightful experience of picking a live junebug roughly the size of a microwave oven out of my hair, we've decided on the "ventilation is overrated" option. Go, electric fan, go.
4) Stove is a weensy little thing. Adorable to look at, but forget about cramming a whole turkey in there. (Which is okay, because a whole turkey wouldn't fit in our weensy, adorable li'l fridge, either.)
5) Oh, and yeah, did I mention? THE PLACE IS FLIPPIN' HAUNTED. The cats have been freaking out at odd moments, yowling like Mariah Carey at the dentist's office for fifteen minutes straight at unidentified spots in the middle distance, then pretending like nothing had happened. Random unexplained noises pop up. We came home after grabbing a bite to eat to find that the locked and deadbolted door was open, whilst a formerly open interior door was slammed tight. I'm not sure how I feel about this.
But all in all, it's a good place, and it's treating us well. I wonder if the tormented souls will want to make friends....
1) The upstairs hallway leading to our apartment is dark. Very dark. As in fumbling with keys in the vague hopes of bulls-eying a keyhole levels of dark. This is more dark than I want in an area where narcotic-enhanced transgressors with pointy things and dark designs might by skulking about.
2) The lighting problems carry over to the apartment itself, although not too badly. The annoying thing is that there are fixtures with identifiable light-emitting aspects located at strategic corners where light would be oh so welcome, except that they do nothing all day, unless they chat over a couple of Labatt's when we're not home. To make it worse, there are roughly 8763 light switches scattered about that also do nothing, making the whole affair the sort of party game where no one gets a prize and the one person actually playing is being pointed and laughed at. I have to assume the Bulb family and the Switch family had a falling-out several years ago over a canasta incident or something and still aren't talking.
3) We have a teensy issue with the window screens, in that we don't have any. Well, okay, the small bedroom has brand spanking new windows with built-in screens, but that room is the cheese that stands alone, and we don't use it nearly enough to take advantage. For the other windows, we have lovely malformed good-luck-balancing-this-on-the-sill removable screens, which would be lovely if they weren't three inches too short. We call it a problem; bugs call it an invitation to come par-TAY. Having had the delightful experience of picking a live junebug roughly the size of a microwave oven out of my hair, we've decided on the "ventilation is overrated" option. Go, electric fan, go.
4) Stove is a weensy little thing. Adorable to look at, but forget about cramming a whole turkey in there. (Which is okay, because a whole turkey wouldn't fit in our weensy, adorable li'l fridge, either.)
5) Oh, and yeah, did I mention? THE PLACE IS FLIPPIN' HAUNTED. The cats have been freaking out at odd moments, yowling like Mariah Carey at the dentist's office for fifteen minutes straight at unidentified spots in the middle distance, then pretending like nothing had happened. Random unexplained noises pop up. We came home after grabbing a bite to eat to find that the locked and deadbolted door was open, whilst a formerly open interior door was slammed tight. I'm not sure how I feel about this.
But all in all, it's a good place, and it's treating us well. I wonder if the tormented souls will want to make friends....
