For the lasagna, I used Ina Garten’s turkey sausage lasagna recipe (I’m pretty sure it’s in her Barefoot Contessa cookbook, the first one – I got it off the Food Network website), and substituted Tofurkey’s italian sausage in. And upped the garlic to a tablespoon minced, because we like garlic.
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And Greg had requested a black forest cake, with a sauerkraut chocolate cake as the base, so that’s what he got, and it was pretty delicious. (The sauerkraut is really just for texture, and doesn’t add a taste to it.)
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After we had dinner, Dara and Tiffianna came over, and we played some Cheapass games: Enemy Chocolatier and Give Me the Brain. Then we went to Milltown and met up with some peeps, and Greg had some beers, and we had delicious, delicious Milltown food (their Belgian Frites; spinach, artichoke, and sundried tomato dip; and pretzels with Bier Cheese, yum). A good birthday. Oh, and when we left, Jay was a tinge too drunk to drive, so he came back to the apartment with us, and we played Egyptian Ratscrew while he sobered up, then took him back to his car.
Today, I’m reading Dead Souls, and etching. I like etching, and it can make some nifty things, but I am too impatient for it. It’s kind of a slow process. I mean, it takes maybe a day, but still. Lots of mixing and checking and mixing and checking, and then when the solution’s set up, you have to let it run for several hours and just be patient. I’m not so good at that. Because the solution is poisonous, and there’s a slight risk of electrocution (if you touch anything conducting while the power source is plugged in), the kitties are stuck in the bedroom today. Skeeter would totally rub up against one of the hanging wires and get zapped, and I can’t be having that. Anyway. That shit better come out all purty.
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Happy birthday, Greg!
I gave him the French Press early, since he knew it was coming, and was with me when I actually bought it. (I figured it’d only be cruel to not let him use it once it was in the house, so he first used it Thursday.) And today I gave him the coprolites (fossilized dino poops). They are pretty neat, especially if you get them wet – then all the colors come out, and it’s actually kind of gross and turd-looking. (When dry, it looks just like a rock, more or less. Maybe a slightly turd-shaped rock.)
And I’m making lasagna and sauerkraut black forest cake. Pictures and recipes to come.
Excellent news: the car repairs were pretty cheap, actually! Turns out some sensor in the door (that turns the light on when the door is open) was malfunctioning, which was running down the 12volt regular battery (not the 144volt hybrid-specific battery, thank goddess) and also causing the IMA, brake, and ABS indicator lights to come on. Woo woo!
Also, apparently hybrids (or at least our hybrid) don’t have alternators. Wtf. The IMA takes care of it, but that is so weird, not to have an alternator.
Since we do not have to buy ourselves a new alternator or other expensive part, this means Hogswatch* is not cancelled! SWEET!
*I totally convinced Greg to further indulge my fangirl tendencies (beyond letting me collect “Objects”), and we are celebrating Hogswatchnight instead of Christmas this year. (Which…yeah, we’re not really into Christmas per se. I mean, winter holiday where we exchange gifts with loved ones, yes. Christmas specifically, not so much. So this year, Hogswatch!!!)
I got something TOTALLY RAD in the mail today! Let me catch you up on some other stuff, and then we’ll get to that. But holy shit is it awesome.
Okay, so, yesterday I stopped by the office on my way home to tell them that my allergies/symptoms were getting much better, but that the Kilz was bubbling away from the wall and I was worried it would crack and spores would get back out. They were incredibly nice about it and said they’d either repaint it or replace it entirely, depending on what it looked like it needed. (I think maybe even the main property manager here is cooler than my last post about her may have made her seem – I’m thinking maybe she’s just constrained by legal stuff, too, and doesn’t want to get in trouble, and I can understand that.) But then. I got back to the apartment, and it looked like someone had kicked in that part of the wall. Which is real fucking smart, since it means mold spores are all up in the air again and shit. Nice one, assholes. (Apparently my building has a bad rep for shit like this. Like the MPM has given up on having the automatic closer thingy attached and reattached to the door, to make it shut itself, because they keep getting ripped off and stolen. What the fuck.) Anyway, they covered that whole section of wall with plywood this morning – far beyond the edges of the hole, too, so I don’t think I have to worry about spores getting out and fucking me up. But seriously. Who fucking kicks a hole in the wall of the building they live in? And do they shit where they eat, too? Damn.
Second, that damn car. I don’t really mean that, I guess. Kind of like how I call Skeeter “that damn cat” sometimes, but don’t really mean it. (Unless the car needs a shitload worth of expensive repairs, and then I *will* mean it.) So the battery’s good now, right – and the IMA light was on. (Integrated Motor Assist – what regulates the hybrid battery assisting the gas, etc.) Last time it came on, it just meant we were overdue for an oil change, which we kind of are now, so we figured we’d take it in tomorrow or something, get an oil change. Yesterday, when I was driving home from work, the brake light AND the ABS light came on and didn’t go off. That can’t be a good sign. Grrr.
And then last night the subject of possibly moving back to the house at some point in the future (maybe not even moving back for good, but just to get out of this cramped apartment until the house sells) was broached, and I got so freaked out so fast I had to take a klonopin. Not so cool. So, obviously, I need to get back into therapy and start working on that, especially if moving back turns out to be a real possibility. I do miss the house, and it had a lot of perks – even if I do want a fireplace and a second toilet – but I seem to be irrationally scared of it. I mean, rationally, logically, safety is really just an illusion. No home is inviolable. You just feel like it is until it gets broken into. We could move into a totally new house that seemed safer, and get broken into, and I’d be back to fucked up, neurotic, and miserable. Logically, I feel like I should be able to move back to that house – it has alot going for it, I like it, I miss it, if we turn on the alarm system and get a taser (or maybe even a gun, although I hate the idea), or take some self-defense classes and learn to kick a little ass, should be fine. That’s all mental, though. Emotionally, the barest suggestion of moving back fucks me right up. Anyway.
Okay, so the SHEER AWESOMENESS! I don’t think I’ve mentioned before how obsessed I am over The Lost Room. (Which is out on dvd if you haven’t seen it on SciFi. You should watch it, it is awesome, even Greg likes it. It’s not some bad movie I like because I have questionable taste in movies – I *know* when a movie I like is bad and I’ll admit it, and this one is not even remotely bad, it’s AMAZING. So go watch it.) It’s a miniseries (even though I keep saying “movie”) that originally aired on SciFi back in 2006, over the course of three nights. And the first night, thirty or forty minutes into it, I *just knew* that I had to collect The Objects. I don’t want to spoil you, but the basic gist is an Event happens that yanks a motel room (number 10) out of time and space (and, uh, history, too, or memory maybe). And the objects that are in the motel room, when they get taken out (and brought into the “real world”) have powers. Like The Key. The Key will open any door with a keyhole, and when the door opens, it opens onto the motel room. If you go into the motel room with The Key and shut the door behind you, you can then open the door onto pretty much anywhere. If you have a specific door in mind, the motel room will open onto that. If not, it’ll randomly choose someplace for you. I don’t have The Key (yet!), but a fellow collector who is unbelievable at creating Objects put together a starter kit of sorts and sold it on ebay, and I got it. Now I need to find some way to display these properly, which may or may not involve like placards/notes with their “powers.” Anyway. So I am now the incredibly proud and tickled-to-death owner of:
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1. The Bus Ticket – When it touches someone’s skin, they are transported to Route 66, just outside Gallup, NM. (The duct tape is for safe handling.)
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2. The Cigarettes – Dormant. (Meaning the “powers” are unknown. This is also a prop box, and doesn’t contain any real cigarettes.)
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3. The Comb – Stops time for about ten seconds when combed through user’s hair. (Also, this picture is blurry. Sorry.)
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4. The Matchbook – Dormant.
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5. The Pen – The ballpoint instantly microwaves any subject on contact. *The Pen wasn’t my favorite Object in the miniseries (I lean towards The Eye, since it’s got the creep-factor), and when I initially bid on Ebay I was most excited about getting The Bus Ticket. But now that they’re here, I think The Pen is my favorite (but only by a slight margin since they’re all so damn cool). I tend to get attached to pens anyway, and this is my new all-time favorite. Luckily, it unscrews, so I can replace the ink when it runs out. If I ever lose this puppy, I don’t even know. (I mean, I’ll probably just buy another one, if the seller still has them, but it will be like losing my Chococat pen times a hundred, in terms of upset.)
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6. The Pencil – When you tap the eraser against a surface, it creates a 1961 US penny. (And I couldn’t convince my camera to take even a halfway decent blurry picture of it, much less a clear one. I’ll try again later, but it’s your basic yellow no. 2, and it’s in the group photo up top.)
7. The Photo – Dormant.
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8. The Polaroid – When used at the site of the missing room of the Sunshine Motel, allows the user to see the Lost Room as it was before the Event.
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9. The Postcard – Dormant.
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I had The Paperclip (don’t scoff – it has to be large, and all I had on hand for a while were small) for a bit, but then it got sacrificed in an attempt to open a thing when we got the car towed. (There’s this button you have to uncover, to get the steering wheel not to lock up, since you can’t crank the car. Anyway, the paperclip got bent. Oh well. It was easy enough to get, I’ll get another one. I mean…”I’ll get *it* again.” Right. Don’t want to pierce the veil or anything.) And I’ve really got a bee in my bonnet to get The Toothbrush – on the forums it seems like other collectors have given up on ever finding it, but I think I can make one from a toothbrush that they probably carry at Weaver St. I promised to etch another trilobite medallion for someone on Craftster, so I need to get that done. And I’ve got a lot of Dead Souls to read for next Tuesday. But the next project on my to-do list is to see if I can make The Toothbrush. I’m pretty excited.
And now I’m going to go drool over my Objects some more. They are really incredibly made, show-accurate, astounding. So cool!
So, I had an interesting, uh, mini-conversation (it was like four or five sentences, tops) with a friend a few days ago about Helena Bonham Carter, and how I can manage to be a fan of hers given the whole Kenneth Branagh dust-up. My reasoning is that, while I’m extremely anti-cheating, it doesn’t really have much bearing on whether or not she’s a talented actress, and I think she is. Also, not that my friend was making this point, just that it occurred to me later, I’m not a fan of the school of thought that primarily blames “the other woman” or, more rarely, “the other man,” but doesn’t really place blame on the married person who cheated. Granted, bragging about it publicly, sort of rubbing it in Emma Thompson’s face is pretty heinous – but still, I’m not sure that entirely negates my enjoyment of her acting.
But anyway, my main point is, that this mini-convo was interesting and thought-provoking, and I’ve been considering it every day since, and in a burst of synchronicity, it kind of, sort of came up in class today. We’re reading Dead Souls, and I like it. And I like The Nose – or the summary of it, anyway, since I haven’t read it yet. And I’m seriously considering putting all of Gogol’s works that I haven’t read yet on the top of my to-read-next list. But in the introduction/editor’s foreword to my edition of Dead Souls, the editor notes that the original translator changed some references that were anti-Semitic, and the editor has decided to leave those references changed. (In other words, not “correct” them so they match the original text more closely, since that would be anti-Semitic.) 1-I agree with this decision, and 2-I didn’t like Gogol so much after that, but I didn’t stop reading. Today in class, we learned that Gogol wasn’t against the institution of serfdom. Apparently, alot of his contemporaries thought Dead Souls was some sort of argument against serf-holders, and I was under that impression, too. But apparently what Gogol is *really* criticizing, and what he *really* considered the problem with the serf system, is the serf-holder who isn’t properly exploiting his serfs. WTF. So, now I don’t know: do I keep reading Gogol? Anti-Semitic and totally cool with slavery? Kind of an asshole?
I feel like the HBC thing is more her private life, and I don’t feel pressured to boycott her films because she was the other woman once in her life. (And people make mistakes – I should go see if she ever apologized, actually.) I don’t condone it, but I don’t feel like it’s really any of my business. It’s more between her, Branagh, and Thompson. But Gogol’s shit is on a broader and grosser scale. But I am enjoying his writing, and at this point, what good will it do for me to boycott his books? He’s long dead, and most of us (at least I hope most of us) know that racism and slavery are heinous and inhumane and just fucking gross.
And then for the hat trick – something my sister, Susan, sent me today about Orson Scott Card. Now, I know Orson Scott Card is an asshole douchebag of the first water. I’ve known that for a while – my first boyfriend was really tight with two of Card’s kids (they all went to the same high school), and was obsessed with the whole Ender saga. (To this day, if someone is too enthusiastic about Ender and their identification with him, warning bells go off in my head. I mean, yeah, it’s a good read, but seriously, everyone who’s ever said to me, basically, “I am Ender” was a total entitled asshat. And given the crowd I ran with in high school, I actually heard that sentiment expressed ALOT. I was a tool, back then. I’m sorry.) Once I wised up and realized what a completely heinous and gross individual that boyfriend was, I started realizing that alot of his close friends and people he really looked up to, had similar gross, heinous, entitled, sexist, racist, classist, heterosexist, etc, worldviews. Birds of a feather, and all that. And then my mom used to send me clippings of Card’s articles from the Rhino Times (this little Greensboro circular), and, yeah, he’s an asshole. Anyway, Susan sent me this article of his whining about the Mormons getting blamed for Prop 8 passing. Now, a couple things:
1. While I might assume that strict Mormons are all pro-Prop-8, since that’s the official stance of their church (and if they’re strict, I think it’s fair to assume they agree with their church’s stances on stuff), I would never just up and be a dick to a Mormon about it out of the blue. That’s rude. Now, if Prop 8 comes up in conversation, and they’re talking about being pro-Prop-8, yeah, I might gently try to explain to them what a just goddamned mean-spirited and hateful stance that is. And then, if it gets a little rude, if we can’t just voice our opinions and respect our differences like adults, yeah, THEN I might actually say to their face, “Well, you’re an asshole.” Although more likely I wouldn’t, and would just find an excuse to leave and never talk to them again. (If you’re a friend/random stranger/blog reader reading this, and you’re pro-Prop-8, yeah, sorry, dude, I kind of totally think you’re an asshole. I can’t say it better than Keith Olbermann did, so here it is, why pro-Prop-8 automatically equals “you’re an asshole” in my book.)
2. While Card is correct that Mormon votes alone couldn’t have passed Prop 8, those votes *were* a part of it passing. What the fuck kind of dumbass logic is he using? “Don’t blame us because other people voted for it, too”? Well, those people are assholes, too. I mean, what the fuck is that shit? This is how voting works. You vote your conscience, and then you deal with the consequences. If you don’t want people to know how you voted and then give you shit about it because they disagree with you, maybe don’t be so fucking vocal about how you voted. Maybe keep that to yourself. But to say, “Yeah, I voted for Prop 8. But it’s not fair for you to call me an asshole even though you think pro-Prop-8 equals assholism.” I mean …. What? You have a right to your belief, and I have a right to disagree with you.
3. Card says, “If we had put out an ad showing gay activists forcing their views on unwilling citizens, it would have actually been true — since that is exactly what happened to make Prop. 8 necessary in the first place.” WHAT. THE. FUCK. Gay activists didn’t force anything on anyone. They did exactly what Card claims the Mormons were doing: “All we did was tell the truth, and try to persuade other people to act on that truth by voting for the proposition. We forced no one. We deceived no one. It was democracy.” All the marriage equality activists (because they’re not all gay, you fuckwit heterosexist) did was tell the truth, and try to persuade other people to act on that truth. And guess what, they did, and guess what else, that’s democracy. Here’s why my tolerance is severely chafed by people like this: because they whine and whine about “if we treated them like they’ve treated us” and “they claim we’re oppressing them, but really they’re oppressing us!” Shut the fuck up already, because no gay activists held people at gunpoint in the voting booths and made them vote for marriage equality when they were against it. And when you make the claim that these activists forced their views on *unwilling* citizens, then I just can’t listen to your bullshit any longer. Your other claims might actually be valid, but you’re undermining them with this “gay activists forced blah blah” shit.
4. Regardless, I’m still not going to be a dick to individual Mormons without sufficient provocation, because that’s just rude. I may totally disagree with them, but they have a right to their beliefs. But what I am ill about is how a tax-exempt organization is lobbying! Bullshit, Poppy, bullshit. (Petition for IRS to review the 501(c)(3) status of the Church of Latter-day Saints is here, if you’re so inclined.)
5ish. And then a side note about Card saying Prop 8 is “protecting marriage from a fatal redefinition.” Fatal? What? Like The Gays (gasp, pearl-clutching, hysterics, etc, all with tongue firmly in-cheek) are going to start getting married and then…Marriage dies? So, no one gets married anymore? Or marriages stop working? Because I’m pretty sure that me and Greg are still married, still fine with it in fact, and queers were getting married a couple years ago, and still are getting married in some (totally awesome, non-asshole) places. I mean, I haven’t lost anything – not a damn thing – because we let men marry men and women marry women. And actually, to be totally cheesy but also dead serious, I think I’ve *gained* quite a bit when marriage equality has been in effect. Little things, you know, like a couple sizes to my Grinch-like heart, or faith in mankind’s ability to progress and become better and more loving and tolerant, more of a sense of peaceful happiness about the state of things when I think about the world in general. “Fatal redefinition.” UGH.
Anyway, to return to my original point – Susan sent me that link, and it was another burst of synchronicity about this…I don’t know “morals-of-actress/author and my support as a fan” quandary. It’s not like I was going to read the new Ender book anyway. (Because, really, they should’ve stopped after Xenocide, and according to wikipedia, the series is now up to 10 novels, 10 short stories, and another novel in the works – he’s really milking this shit, ain’t he.) Now I’m *especially* not reading it, because I know where Card lives in Greensboro, I’ve seen his house (from the outside – but I had descriptions from that first boyfriend, who went there everyday for lunch), he’s already rich as fuck and doesn’t need anymore money from me, especially when he’s being such a damn dick.
This is long as fuck, and I’ve probably long passed the point where I, uh, made my point. I just got riled up. You know.
Well, it turns out the car’s battery (which was only about six months old) was dead. That’s all. I couldn’t believe it when Greg told me. If we’d thought it was just the battery, we would’ve changed it ourselves (since we’ve done it before), but we were sure it was something more serious, so it went to the dealership and then we decided to just let them change it. And forgot that we were planning on get the oil changed Friday – could’ve killed two birds with one stone. Oh well. At least now if it dies in the next three years, they’ll replace it for free. And I’m not complaining that it was only the battery when it could’ve been something more serious, and more expensive.
I am coughing up some truly fucking disgusting stuff, but I think I’m starting to finally feel a bit better. (I should probably go find some wood to knock on right about now.) Unfortunately, it looks like the mold is still growing under the Kilz, and while it hasn’t breached yet (at least I think it hasn’t), the paint is warping and bubbling away from the wall. If it tears, those damn mold spores are going to be airborne again, and I’ll be back to miserable. I’m so fucking tired of complaining to the apartment office, but I’m even more tired of being sick, so…I’ll have to apprise them of this development soon, I think.
The other horrible recent event that kicked my anxiety into high gear happened last Thursday. I don’t even remember how we discovered this, but Thursday evening we discovered that Skeeter had about maybe two inches of human hair protruding from his, ah, butt. Because he eats hair off the floor. I don’t even know. I can’t begin to tell you what is wrong with that cat, other than (to quote Greg) “lots of stuff.” But he’s sweet, so I keep him around. Anyway, he eats fucking hair, that we’ve shed. (Shedded?) And Thursday evening one strand of hair was sticking out of his butt, and when I tried gently (and not with my bare hands) to remove it, it was stuck fast. (You don’t want to yank stuff out of their rears, because if it’s edged enough it can cut them, and if it’s tangled up in their intestines…well. I guess you could disembowel them. Gross. Anyway, maybe hair would just break off if you were pulling hard, but I don’t want to find out.) And the hair smelled like it had been marinated in shit, because it had. It was awful, and the smell just followed him, so we cut the strand off to about a quarter-inch, and hoped it would pass.
Friday morning, it was still there, so at lunch I got to call the vet with a ridiculously gross and embarrassing explanation about what was going on, and how we should handle it. (I seem to get those alot with these cats – the gross and embarrassing discussions. Like the time Chalupa needed a fecal exam, and I had to ask, over the phone at work since that’s where they had called to mention the fecal sample, if it was the sort of thing they “could go in after” or if they needed me to collect it. Good times.) Anyway, the vet’s opinion was that it would be safe to gently try to remove it (done that), but that if there was resistance, to leave it alone and bring Skeeter in, because it was probably obstructed. (Which, in dogs at least, I think usually means surgery to get their bowels sorted out.) I also got a mini-lecture on trying to make it so that Skeeter doesn’t have hair to eat in the first place. (I swear we’re not total slobs, although I am going to sweep and vacuum regularly from now on. He just finds it, no matter how much or how little there is to find, he zeroes in on it. AND! The other night, Chalupa got behind my head on the bed, and I thought it was sweet until I realized she was chewing on my hair. What the fuck. She’s never done that before. I made her stop, because 1-I don’t want to have patchy spots where she’s chewed my hair off, and 2-more importantly, I’m not going through this shit again with her. No more hair-eating, dammit!) Anyway, luckily when we got home Friday afternoon, it had passed on its own, and without any, uh, signs of scooting. (And have you seen the Stanley Steemer commercial? GROSS.) Anyway, so now I’m being all anal and bitchy about shedded hairs and disposing of them so Skeeter can’t eat them. (Much like with the used q-tips. Again, GROSS.)
Anyway, this is supposed to be somewhat of a knitting/crafting blog (in addition to just a personal whatever-the-fuck-I-feel-like blog), and I *have* been knitting, so here’s a new FO: the Mystery Beret. Greg’s already gone to his D&D game in Cary, so I’ll get pictures of it on my actual head (instead of a plate) later. But it’s super cute, and I love it. I used acrylic yarn, and I love it the way it is, but I’m also thinking about “killing” the crown of the beret, so it’s a little drapier/slouchier. (Killing acrylic is kind of like blocking, only you only have to do it once and it retains the shape even after washing and drying. But killing acrylic makes it lose its elasticity, so I need to work out a way to kill only the crown and not the brim, so the beret will stay on my head. I think it can be done, though.) I’m also working on a scarf and wristwarmers in the same yarn, for a matching set, but they’re not done yet. Close, though! Anyway, here’s my newest beret:
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And I wore my Secret Garden tam today, and I don’t think I’ve posted pictures of it, so I’ll do that soon, too. (Tomorrow, even, if I’m not too lazy.)
Man, this year hasn’t been so good. Or at least, the past six-ish months? And I’m still sick – I can’t tell if I’m getting better or worse. Slightly worse, I think, since my ears are starting to hurt again (so more pressure’s building up), and my asthma is more of a problem. Joy. I’m also bringing up some really gnarly stuff when I cough and blow my nose, but maybe that’s a good thing? Since it’s breaking up and coming out? I don’t know. And I’m awake at three in the morning, feeling like absolute ass, so that doesn’t bode well for the rest of today. And my stomach is severely fucked up from all the meds I’m on to combat the allergy. AND of course I’m starting to worry that I’ve got fungus growing in my lungs. Oh, the joys of anxiety.
Also, our car is dead, and currently at the dealership to figure out what’s going on. We went out yesterday morning to find that the battery was completely drained, even though we hadn’t left the lights on or anything else – it just ran down on its own overnight. Got it jumped, went to work, and when we got off work at five, dead again. Tried to jump it off of two different cars – the first time, nothing; the second time, mostly nothing but also a spark off one of the nodes, accompanied by a nasty burnt smell. I’m convinced it’s going to be horribly bad news, but there’s not a lot we can do since we kind of need a car. (Although thankfully we’re on a busline now, so not having a car doesn’t automatically knock work out, but it is a total pain in the ass. Especially if I end up having to go back to the doctor’s. Or similarly distant shit.)
I’m just a barrel of laughs these days, huh.
They finally Kilz-ed it. However, I don’t know which Kilz primer they used, and according to the site, Kilz 2 Latex or Kilz Premium is appropriate for mold and mildew – and my money’s on Kilz Original having been used, since cheapness of solution seems to be a watchword in apartments. Why buy several different types of Kilz, when you can just buy one and use it for everything and then be like, “But it was Kilz-ed.” Also, according to the Kilz site, you’re supposed to wash the surface with a mildew remover, rinse with water, and let dry before painting it with Kilz, and that didn’t happen either. Apparently the plan is to wait and see if it grows through the Kilz, and if so, completely replace the drywall at that point. I don’t want to be a complete and utter bitch, so if I start getting better, I’ll let it drop. If I keep getting worse, however, then I’ll bitch some more about it.
I am really looking forward to living in a house again, and not an apartment. (Last night I was even trying to convince myself I could just move back into our old/current house, but I can’t.) I went to the office to pick up a package and also to see what they painted over the mold with (because if it had been anything other than Kilz I would have had to press the point and insist that they handle this properly), and I don’t want to name names, but the main property manager was there, and I just don’t know about her. The person I spoke with yesterday said (yesterday) that she had had to write up a request about the mold several times, before it got dealt with, and even then it was just sprayed with bleach. (Also, apparently they are not legally allowed to say “mold,” and so she got chastised when I first reported it and she said, “I wonder if it’s black mold,” in front of me and the main property manager. So now it’s “an unidentified substance.” What fucking bullshit.) Anyway, so she’s in the office today, as is the main property manager (I’ll just say MPM from now on, okay?). I ask her if painting over it is all that’s going to be done, and she says they used Kilz, and then she says, “But we’re still…” At which point the MPM, who was on the phone, drops her phone and hurries out of her office, I’m pretty sure to cut the other lady off. So apparently they’re NOT “still” doing…whatever it was she was about to say. Then the MPM starts talking to me, cutting the other lady off, and says, “So, it just kept growing the Kilz every time they painted over it?” And I had to explain that, actually, today is the first time it’s been Kilz-ed – I mean, you can SEE that it’s been painted over, and you could see every day between when it first cropped up in July and today that it HADN’T been painted over. And the maintenance guys seem nice (if overly busy, see below), so I kind of have a hard time believing they’ve been telling her this whole time that they’ve been repeatedly repainting it and the mold – excuse me, “unidentified substance” – keeps growing through, when they haven’t done anything of the sort.
So then the MPM briefly mentions her plan to see if it grows through before actually cutting out and replacing the drywall, and then she says, “I bet someone left the door open, and it rained alot and that led to it.” (And this whole time she just calls it “it,” not mildew, not “unidentified substance,” just “it.” Although I guess she has to.) So I got to say, “Yes, that’s exactly what happened. Back in July.” And she just kind of blinked for a bit, and then she said, “You just got new carpet, though, didn’t you?” And I’m like, “You mean, in the breezeway, right?” Because we didn’t get new carpet in our apartments. And she says, “Yeah. I think it looks really nice.” And continues to natter on for a bit about the new carpet. Now, either she’s completely fucking retarded – hello, I don’t care two shits about new carpet when mold is sitting there untreated for four months making me continuously sick for three straight months – or she was trying to change the subject. I’m plumping for the latter. And I mean, I’m not dumb, I know how it works with apartments, especially old ass ones like these that have cheaper rent – the actual manager is trying to get all the profit s/he can, and wants to put off repairing all the shit that needs repairing (which is, like, everything, at this point) until it can’t be put off any longer. It’s the same reason why there are like 150ish apartments, and only two maintenance dudes to take care of all the problems that crop up, and also deal with trash and “turning over” the empty apartments before new tenants move in (painting, re-carpeting, superficial repairs to make it look better), and they also have to deliver any office memos that need to be distributed to all the doors in the complex. I get it, I do, but why do we have to dissemble about it? Why pretend that it’s anything other than it is? Or, at the very least, why shift the blame to the maintenance guys and not blame the higher powers that be who aren’t even on the grounds? I haven’t talked to them terribly much, but from what little I have chatted with the maintenance guys, it seems like there’s somewhat of a rift between them and the office/actual owner of the complex. It can’t help that rift when the MPM in the office is shifting blame onto the maintenance guys, especially if it really boils down to “the actual owner is too cheap to sign off on any real repairs.”
Having to cover your own repairs as a homeowner can be kind of…less than awesome, especially when something breaks that is both utterly necessary and ridiculously expensive to repair. But I’m still kind of missing it right about now. Renting, where stuff is supposed to be fixed for you by the owner, seems like an advantage, but only if shit actually gets fixed. The stopper in one bathroom sink is broken, the shower faucet in that bathroom leaks, and the kitchen sink faucet leaks and probably needs new washers, but I’m wary of reporting it because, really, what’s the point. (Actually, I have reported the kitchen sink before, and instead of replacing the washers, they just tightened the knobs more, to the point where you really almost need a plumber’s wrench to turn them on and off without resulting in more leaking.) Plus some other shit. I mean, isn’t there always “some other shit” in apartments, really.
Sorry this is so fucking boring and whiny lately. I don’t even have pictures for you right now. 
It’s time for more medicine and heading back to bed. Whee!
I am indeed staying home today, not because I was awake from 3:00 to 5:00 this morning and am tired, but because I feel like utter ass.
Another upside: I’m not contagious, which is great for everyone around me.
On the downside: Missing more work. Flonase tastes like dead flowers and has already given me a blister inside one nostril.
Missing work can’t really be helped today. And being able to breathe is so rad that I guess I’ll take the dead flowers and nostril blister.
And now I’m taking my sorry carcass back to bed.
