hel_ana: (Default)
So I just spent an hour and a half shoveling snow out of the parking lot. Not all of it, mind; just the egresses and enough space around my spot for me to get in and out.

In theory, we have a guy on contract who comes with a truck to plow out the lot. In practice, however, we have a metric fuck ton of snow spread out over the lot, and plans to get to work tomorrow. My car is in the lot next door (because it's plowed, despite the restaurant not being actually open today), since I got stuck coming home from the store this afternoon and put it over there. However, this is sub-optimal, especially since everyone in the building* bitches mightily at Kennedy's when their patrons park in our lot. I ran out of patience at about 3:30. I snapped, because I realized that if the theoretical plow-guy didn't come, I'd be stuck shoveling my way out either in the dark or in the morning.

Neither of which is acceptable.

So I went out, and cleaned out what I needed clean, despite the assurances of the super that "he's coming" (yeah, and so, I've been told for the past 4 months, is the plumber, to put a regulator on the shower so it doesn't go from a reasonable temperature, through scalding hot, to freezing cold during my showers).

And now I hurt. ::sighs::

And apparently the fresh air and exercise did absolutely nothing for my mood.

* Ok, Crazy Lady bitches. And screams obscenities out the window at anyone she doesn't recognize parking in our lot, on the assumption that they're going to Kennedy's.
hel_ana: (Default)
Well.. village, perhaps.

I have one of those neighbours now. You know.. knows everything about everyone, makes sure to speak every time she sees you, has a very doily-intense apartment with a arts'n'craftsy bunny outside the door, very small town-y. One night during the move, real_jayde and I had finished taking a load from Kitchener to the new apartment, and were going to eat something at the Irish pub next door. As I was about to lock the door, That Neighbour wandered up with a screwdriver in hand, because she'd loaned some blind brackets (or screws) to the previous tenants. I just looked at her and said "why don't you just go on in, get the brackets, and I'll lock up the apartment after I finish eating?", meanwhile mentally finishing up with "because you know you want to take a look around, and it'll be easier for you if I'm not there". One of my co-workers pointed out that she's probably regretting looking around so soon, since most everything was still in sealed boxes.

On a walk I took on Saturday night, I ran into her on the way out of town as she was "walking" her daschund. Her opening conversational gambit was "Why don't you own a cat?" After I instinctively threw up the allergy defense, she said "Well, that's a good reason I guess". Apparently it was all in the service of finding homes for a member of a litter of kittens living around a building across the street. I'm guessing that if I'd told her my heart belongs to a little calico miss in St. Petersburg, she'd have pressed the case further.

I have the suspicion that many will be the stories I'll tell, now that I've moved in. At least it'll keep you lot entertained.


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January 2015

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