I didn’t want to.
I really didn’t want to renew my lease for a mold infested apartment for another year… so I didn’t. I could pay $200 more per month for six months (in addition to the “standard” $115 rent jump), or I can “upgrade” to a one bedroom/one bath unit and pay only $150 more in base rent. I still plan on moving… but not for six months. It’s not ideal, but it works…sorta.
I’m still looking for places. The problem is, I haven’t nailed down where yet. I want something suburban… but I don’t have a car. Unfortunately, any meaningful form of public transit it found in the city. Along with crime, traffic and, worst of all noise.
I would move back to Baltimore, but that not only has a “been there, done that” aura to it – it also feels like “giving up.” Pretty soon, I’d be writing unpaid “theatre reviews” no-one reads (I know, I checked my site stats), and that’s the absolute LAST thing I want. I know Autism is all about “sameness” and “routines,” but my last “official” diagnosis was ADHD so I can’t stand doing the same thing over and over again ad–fucking–nauseam. Let’s not forget all sorts of “fun” (aka “horrible and traumatic”) memories it would kick up (you can look them up yourself, many of them are still on here).
Both New York and DC have better access to jobs and have more expansive transit options… but they’re a LOT more expensive to live in. Sure, I can make it work, but I just don’t see it happening. I also looked at Myrtle Beach because it was listed as 2018’s “Best cheap beach town” by some magazine or another (and after checking various apartment rental sites, I can confirm they are)… but their one bus line stops service at 10pm.
One place I’m looking at is Philadelphia. It has its own mix of cheap split up townhouses with shared laundry rooms, and newer “luxury” units… but I’ve never lived there, so it would all be new to me. Pluz (uhn-lieg Fladda), I a’reddy speeg da lag-wedge.
The main problem right now is inventory. There’s just not much available this time of year compared to April or May when the school year ends and graduation season begins. Hopefully, by then, I’ll have better news for you…
(Art credit: Emm Roy, Emm’s Positivity Blog)
I just had someone I’ve never met, open my door and bring his two year old inside MY apartment. The scary thing is, I thought my door was locked — it wasn’t. He just walked in.
He quickly left saying he had “the wrong apartment” when I came out to investigate (as it sounded like the ice maker starting up again). Unfortunately, I was too stunned to actually say anything which makes me feel even more useless.
I just returned from three days at Disney, so I must have left the door unlocked while I unpacked (which is, thankfully, what I was doing when he came in) as I’m already paranoid of things exactly like this happening. This could have gone badly in any number of ways – especially since this complex had a spate of car and home invasion robberies last year.
This means I’m literally sitting here feeling scared and unsafe in my own apartment — and it’s MY OWN DAMNED FAULT!! The best part is, there is literally nothing I can tell myself to calm myself down that can’t be disproven by the fact that it happened.
It doesn’t matter how many times I check my locks at night if someone barges in in the middle of the day. It doesn’t matter how angry I get about it if I can only blame myself for it. It doesn’t matter how much he apologizes, it still happened. It doesn’t matter what lies I tell myself to quash my heightened anxiety, it still happened. It still happened, and I’m still scared….
Today is the third day since re-reporting my dismissed problems to the leasing office (they take this seriously, their maintenance team apparently does not). To my knowledge, not only has nothing been done, but no-one has been by to check on it. I’m beginning to think they aren’t going to come over the weekend either.
Yes, in the grand scheme of things, three days isn’t a long time to wait for something like this. I also know that a complex with 1100 units has a laundry list of problems on a daily basis… but something tells me that only are they not taking this seriously but that they are making me wait around for nothing.
Sorry, but, contrary to what most people think, I actually have places to go (I already put off a doctor’s apt because “omg, what if I’m not here?”) and things to do – and I’m going to do them. I refuse to be a prisoner in my own apartment. This lease can’t end fast enough…
Second update: As predicted above, no-one came by over the weekend either. But I did get a doctor’s appointment to see if it really is mold as someone suggested… or just IBS and strong allergies. This I know I’ll get an answer to this week… maybe. (10/7/19)
Two years ago (according to FB Memories), my apartment had a horrible black mold problem. Now, I have a mysterious force making me extremely sick all summer (hence no park photos), leaving black film on my dishes when I pull them out of the dishwasher, and turning my clothes a rusty red color.
If I knew what was causing this, I could do a better job reporting it to them. I’m told someone will be by today to look at it (whatever “it” is). But their solution to the dishwasher problem was to run an empty cycle and call it a day (and repeating it on their next three visits because it “worked the first time”).
However, their “mold-resistant paint” worked better than I thought, so I’ll see what happens…
Update: The maintenance crew just left. I don’t think they took this complaint very seriously as literally all they did was run an empty washer cycle (even though I expressly told them I have a problem with BOTH washer and dishwasher). They didn’t try to investigate anything else, but they did lecture me in half English/half Spanish on how to run a washing machine. I couldn’t understand most of it, I still found it insulting.
They didn’t look at the reddish clothes I brought out to show them. They didn’t check the lines into either machine or pop into the bathrooms/AC closet (which is three inches from my washer) to check for mold – they just ran the empty cycle, lectured me about using a washing machine and left.
I wasn’t expecting a solution, but I was hoping for, at least, something resembling an answer… and I didn’t get it.
Major accident directly in front of my building. Brought back lots of bad memories. All these people in passing cars slowing down and glaring at ME as if I somehow caused it, doesn’t help matters. Neither does the fact that TODAY – April 26 – marks ten years since the accident that very nearly took my life.
The resemblance between the two crashes (or at least the damage done in them) was uncanny… or should I say unsettling. The fact that I came within seconds of causing my own death on a random Sunday evening on a road in Coal Township, Pa – a mere thousand yards from my home at the time… by obeying all traffic laws to the letter. The reward for my pain and suffering: loss of license, loss of insurance, loss of freedom and, worst of all, loss of the first thing I ever outright owned.
So, while at least one OPD officer was on hand interviewing participants in today’s incident. At no point did anyone bother to ask ME what happened at mine, in fact, the first thing the responding officer said to me was: “yeah, I figured it would be you. Every time there’s an accident in this city. YOU are the who caused it.”
I take that back, he DID ask what happened, and his partner cut him off: “‘Green?’ You mean ‘green’ like graaaaaassss or RED like an aaaaaappulllllll?”
“I’m a college graduate – that means I graduated from Kindergarten too.”
“DON’T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, YOU STUPID MOTHERF-”
At this point, the first cop pulled his hot-headed partner away before he could punch me, but just as he was about to get back to interviewing me, a woman cut him off shouting: “I saw it. I saw the whole thing. He did it. He caused the whole thing” and I didn’t see either officer again for another six hours (for six seconds at the hospital, he looked down at me, shrugged and said “well, you know you’re guilty” and left).
Yep, since I never talked to them (or the newspaper [link not found] which declared me guilty of “causing an accident on SR-61”) that left only one choice: Tell it to the judge… except my dad’s attorney stopped me from entering the courtroom and said: “face it, YOU caused the accident, so rather than go in there and lose – which you will – you will instead plead ‘no contest’ so I can work on more important cases.” Fuck you too.
Sorry, that concludes my story, which is convenient since the trolley I was waiting for has arrived. I have not looked up whether today’s story made the paper or not, but the first thing the driver said when she opened the door was: “damn, that’s the second accident at this exact spot this week. I swear this place is cursed…”
So, I’m having a stressful evening mentally. I was going to get coffee at the Wawa on I-Drive to distract myself, but I decided self-care was more important. The lights of traffic outside (at 8pm no less) were blindingly bright (streetlights are pretty much non-existent in my area) and the mobile concerts were almost deafening at times, #sensoryhell neither helps with my perpetual headache so I came back inside.
Besides, LAST time I went to Wawa, I was forced to figure out how to react to someone sending this page a message about my personal profile being “banned” from an unspecified page (a kind of weird thing to do, plus it took me two and a half days to figure out which one).
The plus side is, I have more money for rent and bills. Oh, and I can still go out tomorrow morning if I really wanted to…
Yesterday, my Facebook page received a rather rude pm about it’s author being “banned” from an unspecified page, presumably for having an opinion of some sort (perish the thought).
That isn’t what bothers me, but what DOES is that I was probably supposed to feel something: mad, sad, guilty or like I was being “punished” for some vaguely described crime… but I didn’t.
I simply stood there for a moment in the middle of the Wawa with my newly acquired coffee in hand like “okay, that was petty, but why is she sending it to my page?”
I know she sent it for a REASON (however petty), and I knew I was supposed to react a certain way… but I didn’t. Am I cold, unfeeling or is ennui a viable option? I did send a cursory response when I got back to the apartment roughly 20 minutes later, but I was in too good of a mood to argue with her.
I was going to send her message at 9:35am (12 hours after the instantaneous response that I never read) but decided to simply delete it instead. I am 38 years old. Like it or not, I’m an “adult” now.
Thanks for reading this. I didn’t intend to go on so long, I just really needed to get this out of my system. Servus.
Update: We have another cold front passing through Orlando this week. So, I’m having a hot coffee, so far, nobody has “banned” either me and my “negative and insulting comments” or my overly positive Autism affirming page from anything… yet. (12/10/18)