the fucking craphole apartment seems like a good idea when there are thirty hours left on the truck rental & the open storage unit is an hour away & you don't want to keep imposing on your boss's studio space & you miss your computers & you don't have any clothes or anywhere to wash clothes & so on. & while the craphole apartment may indeed be a better decision than driving to auburn, unpacking the truck into storage, continuing to live where i work, continuing the search for an apartment, then renting another truck, unpacking back into the new truck, & THEN unpacking somewhere i could get to my stuff... it still sucks here.
my new friend andy helped chris & jenna & me to move chris's & my things (chris is staying with me until he's on his feet) into the craphole apartment. i met andy because he placed this ridiculous personal ad a month ago on seattle's craigslist, offering to lucky women a memorable date of unpacking his moving truck. i replied that his ad was ridiculous, of course, but that HE was welcome to come help unpack MY moving truck - & to everyone's surprise, he agreed. (last week, to everyone's further surprise, he actually rode the bus an hour here from tacoma to help... who is this guy, anyhow?!) so andy carried heavy things for us & pointed out many horrible things about my new apartment.
like how there's absolutely no way to get into it from the street without walking down at least three half-flights of outdoor stairs which aren't exactly contiguous. & how the building looks like it's crumbling away. & how it's going to suck even more to move out of in two months when the place is sold as a tear-down.
okay, i don't know that i'll actually HAVE to evacuate in two months, but it IS a month-to-month lease & i'm hearing contradictory things from the landlord & the tenants regarding sale & escrow & all, so who the fuck knows. for my own sanity, i need to find a stable place that isn't awful & offers me a year lease so i can relax & unwind & *unpack*. i refuse to unpack anything non-essential since i can be given twenty days' notice at any time, & this sucks in part because i'm missing several shirts.
now, it's not actually as bad as i make it out to be, but it's definitely been a worsening experience. at first look, the inside is clean, the carpets & blinds are new, there's quite a lot of space in the main room & a decent sized bedroom, all for very reasonable rent - but the first couple of nights will tell you what kind of deal you really got. check:
at the onset of unpacking, we decided the back door would be the best way to go since it offered fewer stairs. but when the second-from-the-top concrete-on-steel stair collapsed into the ether, nearly killing andy, we changed our minds. just as well since we found a better way down a sidestreet, but reporting the incident to my landlord has thusfar resulted only in a length of 'caution' tape being wrapped badly around the area. reassuring.
there weren't any three-prong outlets in the entire place, so chris had to rewire a few of them, & only ONE reports as a stable line on my diagnostic surge protector (big ol' metal isotel - definitely worth the $80 i spent on it in 1996). so my computer is plugged in via a huge blue extension cord running from the kitchen, & we're scared to power up the microwave in the living room because just plugging in the fan on that line - without even turning it on - makes my floor lamp go dark.
while unloading the truck, the guy upstairs asked if he could help. peter said he's bored, & that he wouldn't mind. apparently "help unload the truck" to peter means "sit nearby & evaluate items coming out of the truck, bothering everyone with meaningless questions that don't particularly relate to said emerging items, then leave". so he did that, & we learned in there somewhere that peter plays several instruments. except someone should explain to peter that "play" doesn't mean "own & can get sound out of". i don't know where this guy bought his dictionary, but it's ass. so every day we're treated to peter blowing fairly bad notes on his trombone (bad enough that i didn't even identify it as a trombone for several days - i thought it might've been an oboe) & sawing HORRID PAIN on what he called a fiddle, but may indeed be a badly burned adult cat. this is aside from the [fortunately only] ten daily minutes of incredibly loud, unrecognizable tv mumblings, the unidentified sliding door which is either closet or bathroom (my money's on the former since i never hear it flush, but who knows with this guy), the bi-daily half hour of very very loud generic jazz radio, & general stomping around slash soccer tourney.
the dsl incident. i have no idea how the landlord could say previous tenants had dsl here, since before us there was no way to even plug in a damned computer, but she did & i suppose they did. perhaps there have only been laptops in this building. anyway, i called on friday to set up a phone line & dsl, & of course i had to wait three business days, which meant wednesday. wednesday i missed the modem & had to drive a while to pick it up at UPS, but this was done joyfully as i was expecting dsl to be waiting for me at home. but it wasn't, & since it was promised at SEVEN PM wednesday, i couldn't call qwest about it until thursday morning. totally steamed, i was told a technician would have to come examine the magic dsl box outside - on friday. i pitched a decent fit & they said they'd try to arrange it for thursday afternoon - which they didn't. so at 4pm thursday i pitched an enormous, swearing fit at qwest which eventually resulted in my agreeing to wait until friday in exchange for a full credit on my account of the installation charge, service charge, & first month's access charge. go me.
the dsl incident redux. so yesterday i had to leave work for an hour to meet the tech & figure out why the fuck everything here sucks. he got dsl running, i gladly went back to work, & was again excited to come home to internet. but connectivity was so fucking lame that i actually pulled out & set up my 33.6 external. seriously - in three hours, dsl was up for about a half hour, maybe forty minutes total. & this isn't continuous time, either. ten good minutes up, down twenty. up five, down thirty. up ONE, down fifty. & when it was up, i only got about 22kps - ooh, a whole FOUR TIMES FASTER than dialup. what. the. fuck. so i called peoplepc to set up another fucking dialup account only to learn that THEIR systems were doing maintenance & i could call back SATURDAY. so i spent friday night watching the dsl light flash & getting more & more ferociously vitriolic about how NOTHING FUCKING WORKS HERE. i plan on insisting that my $75 credit REMAIN on my account to pay for my phone line over the next year, & now i'm back on dialup. FUCK.
destroy, kill, impotently stomp around horrible apartment raging at... no one. because no one's open after 5 on friday.
also, we seem to have a mental block against purchasing a shower curtain. so the last week has consisted of breezy showers taken hunched against the shower wall.
someone do something to make me less hateful, & quick. my sense of humor is gone & i can't live like this.