An Open Letter to the Moron Living on My Floor…

One of my most hated things about living in an apartment is dealing with the other people living in their own little boxes around me.  For the most part, I have found that my neighbours are great but something that really grinds my gears about living on a floor with 13 other apartments full of people is the other peoples’ use of the garbage chute.

Granted, our garbage chute is smaller than in other buildings I’ve lived in, but it’s not that hard to realized that once the garbage bag is a certain amount of the way full, you then must replace it because anything else won’t fit down the damn chute.

I don’t know how many times I’ve taken our trash to the little room where the garbage chute is and found it jammed with someone else’s garbage.  Most of the time it’s a bag with diapers in it so shame on the lazy ass parent who is teaching their child to be a useless tool in life as well.  Like we need more of those running around.

It’s not even just jamming the chute…I could deal with that with limited rage if it was only that.  However, most of the time some idiot has broken the whole door right out of the wall and it’s hanging there by chains.  Worse, the other day it was just lying on the ground and completely destroyed.  I don’t even know how something like that happens but we only live on the 4th floor.  It’s not that hard to take the elevator down to the basement and throw it in the dumpster if it’s obviously not going to fit down the hole in the wall.

The absolute worst this mystery jerk did was break a glass jar (obviously putting recycling down the garbage instead of into the bins).  There was glass all over the floor in the chute room as well as spread all out into the hallway in front of the elevator.  So at this point it’s just a safety hazard.

I really have no point to this post rather than I’m sure The Boyfriend is sick of hearing about the horrid person on our floor that keeps doing this every time I take the garbage out.  I thought about leaving a scathing note but as of yet I haven’t been quite that angry yet.


I Had Forgotten How Much Moving Sucks!

Moving is not on the list of my most favoured activities.  In fact, I would go so far as to say that it’s on my list of things to do that suck the most.  I have no problem with the concept of moving.  The idea of leaving one place behind and dwelling in a new one is perfectly fine with me.  I have moved 6 times now in the last 8 1/2 years so I obviously don’t have any problem with switching locales.

Everything that goes along with moving is what irritates me the most.  You have to change your address with a million different places.  You have to switch your internet/phone/cable services to a new place and then wait around to have them hooked up.  You have to pack up everything you own and move it to a new place only to take it all out of the boxes and put it back where it was anyway.  I hate the amount of garbage moving produces and how much stuff I end up hauling to Goodwill and Salvation Army, asking myself why I ever bought it in the first place.

This time was especially difficult because I had to go through all of that with the boyfriend and he had never moved before.  Ever.  So that meant there was 25+ years worth of unmoved stuff in our place to go through on top of all the stuff I brought with me when I moved into his house and everything we had acquired since then.

It also doesn’t help that the boyfriend is incredibly particular and paranoid about his stuff and whether it will get broken, stolen or mangled inside the boxes we packed them in and this created more than one argument about what should be packed with what.  It also doesn’t help that I’m one of those people that will just fill a box up with whatever is around me until it is full and then move on to the next box and do the same thing.

The boyfriend is of the mind that all like objects should go into the same box and be carefully labelled so we know where everything is for moving/unpacking purposes.  Now, this may sound sane and logical to you, and it is, but eventually, after you put the easy stuff all into the same boxes (ie. books, movies, games/game systems, etc…) then you’re left with a myriad of miscellaneous objects that have no real category.  Eventually, we just packed all the remainder items into the final boxes to be surprises later during the unpacking process.

Another interesting issue during the entire situation was our kitty, Mr. Pip.  He did not enjoy the constant movement of heavy items, the change happening all around him or anything else of the sort.  He would go into hiding for hours, spaz out and run around the house like a crazy nutcase or scratch at the furniture to show his protest.  On the day of the actual move, we shut him in the basement which had already been cleaned out, while we loaded the U-Haul up with stuff and drove it to the new place.  On the second round, we decided to take him with us in my car and when we went into the basement to find him, he had somehow disappeared.

After some frantic searching by the boyfriend and confused searching by me, we discovered that he had hidden himself inside the wall, far beyond our reach behind the hot water heater.  After some discussion, the choice was made to leave him there for the time being, get the rest of the stuff to the new place, eat some dinner and then go back to get him later when he’d had time to chill out and there wasn’t so much noise.  As evidenced by the following photograph, after some initial few days of hiding under beds and skulking around the apartment, he’s settled in quite nicely:

A very lazy and comfortable Mr. Pip

The boyfriend is a little less settled as of yet.  He’s constantly putting things away and trying to decide what the best placement for everything is.  I come home from work every night and something is a little different, another box is unpacked or there is some other piece of decor placed on a shelf.  We have a roommate as well and being as we’re all nerds, I keep coming home to things like the terror dog from Ghostbusters on top of the DVD shelf, or a statue of Robocop on the other side of it.  Mario and Yoshi grace the top of our entertainment stand, but since I like them and Yoshi is mine, I don’t mind.  All the big stuff is mostly where it’s supposed to go except that I may switch my books shelves and desk because I have back problems for some reason, where it’s sitting now hurts my lower back.

It’s taking a while to settle in.  It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in an apartment and the boyfriend never has.  We had to get used to doing the laundry downstairs and paying for it, hauling groceries up the stairs in multiple trips without being able to leave the car open or the door open, and hearing neighbours walk around sometimes.  I will say that it’s starting to feel like home and I’m back into a routine, which is nice.  We’ve got a year lease and then, who knows?  We may end up moving again or sticking around for a while.  All I know is, when we do move, I’m tempted to hire someone to do all the work for me.