Sep 11 2007
The Sign Of the Dog, Part I
A few years ago I was a bit too comfortable.
I was in my Comfort Zone.
Comfort Zone: the level at which one functions with ease and familiarity
I really needed to get out of my comfort zone. It’s a nice place to visit but you really don’t want to live there.
You get too comfortable and you end up stuck. I was stuck. I was stuck in a one-bedroom in-law apartment that I had outgrown.
I wasn’t a student anymore. I had a car, a job, a career. I had outgrown it emotionally.
I went from living at home to this apartment. It represented a big step for me – my first move towards independence. It was sunny garden apartment carved out of half the garage space under an old house.
My landlord was Irish. Mr. O’Apostrophe. I could barely understand him.
He looked like a Leprechaun: wizened face, short legs, curly white hair, and charming sheepdog eyes with matching brows.
He rented out the entire house, and like a Leprechaun, he was very cunning.
I lived through 4 sets of neighbors, each set becoming worse than the last. Until that last set, none were really all that bad – they just became noisier. Set three was a family with 2 small boys. I was glad I was on the road a lot.
Mr. O’Apostrophe was very sneaky. One day I bumped into the husband from Set 3 and he said, “I hope we aren’t that noisy – I know my boys can get pretty rambunctious.”
I replied that yeah, they did get pretty noisy at times but they were boys and really, everything quieted down by bedtime, which was important. I really didn’t want him to keep his boys from being boys.
He then said that he thought he was renting the entire house when he signed the rental agreement. That’s why he was renting a house – he didn’t want to worry about bothering his neighbors.
He said that while he was exploring the garage, he asked Mr. O’Apostrophe where “that door went” and Mr. O’Apostrophe replied, “Oh, that’s your downstairs neighbor – don’t worry, she’s quiet and gone most of the time.”
If my neighbor had known about me, he wouldn’t have rented.
Sneaky, very sneaky was Mr. O’A.
The house must have had some very odd energy to it or Feng Shui.
I think my apartment had good Feng Shui and the house really bad Feng Shui. When I first moved in, my upstairs neighbor was the former resident of my apartment. She had moved upstairs to share the house with a roommate.
It was she who gave me the lowdown on Mr. O’Apostrophe and his habit of entering the apartment without permission while she wasn’t there. The rent was cheap and this was a bit freaky so I made it a habit not to leave anything of a financial or personal nature laying around.
The things you put up with for cheap rent.
My upstairs neighbor ended up having some kind of Serious Boyfriend Problems later on which ended up with several screaming and crying matches in the wee hours. Then she moved out, a student replaced her and finally, a married couple moved in upstairs.
They seemed nice enough but after a while I heard some arguing and shouting and banging of doors and one day I didn’t see the husband’s car in the garage. One day I hear a tapping on my door and it’s the wife. She tells me that she and her husband are separated, she has a restraining order on him and if he asks to be let in (I could let him in through my entrance) I shouldn’t let him in.
Alrighty then. This made me wonder at what bad ju-ju was going on upstairs. Breakup ju-ju.
I can’t recall after all these years but I think Set 3 moved on to buy a home. Phew!
Set 4 moves in. Set 4 is this young couple. I begin to see Mr. O’A and his wife around a lot more. At this point I’d been living there about 7 years. I’d repainted the apartment at no cost to Mr. O’A, treated the place like my own and barely called about problems. Rent was always on time.
I am not sure what it is but Mr. and Mrs. O’A seemed to think that they were doing me a favor. They were curt. They seemed distrustful. I felt like an unwanted guest. It was like they had no concept of the fact that as a renter, I owned my space. Maybe it was their general distrust of “foreigners” which would be ironic as they were obviously from Ireland.
Anyway, Set 4 moves in and the house is being painted, windows replaced and the roof worked on. Turns out that Set 4 consists of the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. O’A and their Irish-accented son-in-law.
Children learn from their parents. Mr. and Mr. O’A seemed to think of me as an annoying and unwanted guest.
I should have moved out. I should have moved on.
I had gotten a tad too comfortable where I was.
That was about to change…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
I notice the gloves on your sink basin…if you use Palmolive, you will not need them, and your hands will be silky smooth. Just ask Madge!
Since you do not watch much TV, this probably makes for NO logical conclusion, except that you have more than 3 things on your counter.
Ironically, mullets were “hot” in 1984. I add this to confuse everyone.
Icky landlords are the worst!!!! And incompatible neighbors are not so fun either…I used to have a deaf neighbor who claimed my roommates and I were too noisy. In her defense though, the problem was we were waking up her little girl.
Eric aka Speedycat: Ya, I recall Madge of Palmolive fame. She was around when I was a kid. Dunno if she is still around. I use gloves because of icky grease and the fact that I like to use really hot water when doing dishes. I didn’t have a dishwasher at the time. I may have one now but as a single person, I still don’t use it.
I haven’t been on the road much so I haven’t watched any TV, not really. It’s also meant I haven’t seen many movies – I used to see a lot of movies while flying! That’s fine. I’ve been too busy reading and writing and contemplating my navel.
I have vague rememberies of mullets being hot in 1984. I think I had recovered from my permanent about then. I recently came across an old drivers license. Yikes! BIG HAIR. I had a permanent, eye shadow and maybe even lipstick. Huh.
I am sure you were hot to go along with the mullet. Speaking of hot, it seems you have quite the female fanship going on where you are. I think it all happened when you demonstrated your martial-arts prowess.
Jill: My landlord was odd. My neighbors were never that bad at all until Set 4. I wished I had liked my landlord. He had that darling accent and it would have been great if we had had a friendly relationship but oh well. It was mostly businesslike stuff with the the occasional close encounters of the terse kind. Yeah, no Lucky Charm going on with him.
At my last place, I went through I don’t know how many apartment managers and landlords. The place got sold at least once, maybe twice. And then the people next to me, or below me! I lost count of them. But, that might have been from the fact that I was in there almost 15 years.
the really wierd thing – the guy next to me was there when i moved in, and still there when I moved out.
I met the owner one time late at night when I came home. (I had kept really late hours, and was gone pretty early in the morning to avoid traffic.) So, it’s dark. I just parked my car, and a couple of people are coming up to me. I’m not in the best of neighborhoods, so I get a little nervous there. then, I find out it’s the apartment manager and owner, so the owner can meet me.
It was hella cheap for a furnished apartment that included all utilities except for power, and had gas heat and stove. (So, in the winter, the PG&E bill didn’t spike from heating the place.)
The only thing i didn’t like was the wall AC unit. Ancient, no thermostat, etc. So, in the summer sometimes, i’d come home, the place was roasting. I’d sit on a chair, right in front of the AC. Run that for a few hours. Then migrate over to the couch. Then, maybe, migrate on in to the bedroom. If it never cooled down enough, i fell asleep sitting up on the couch.
My landlord is the worst. But if you didn’t know already I live in the PJ’s so my landlord is actually NYC.
The neighbors have changed on me a few times. We now have some special (short yellow bus) folk living on our floor. They hang out in the hallway at odd times of the night.
If you read my post about the condoms in the hallway (http://blog.urbanobservation.com/2007/06/15/living-in-the-hood-safe-sex) then you know what type of neighbors I live with.
My new neighbor’s, a different set, seem to be regular pot smokers. It doesn’t matter what part of he day you can smell the fumes through the door. I actually don’t care too much only for the fact that they have a five year old living with them.
That’s life in the hood though…
UT: I wasn’t sure if you lived in the projects or not. I thought you either lived in or near a bad area but wasn’t sure if you actually lived in the projects. You really see a whole different world than I do.
I dislike smoking when it comes to neighbors but it really is about the smell! OK, and possible fire hazard. With either pot or cigarette smoke, like you, I’d worry about the 2nd hand smoke with children around. I guess in your area, a good neighbor is one you don’t interact much with?
A few of my neighbors smoke (only cigarettes as far as I can tell) and sometimes it drifts in. Which reminds me about cooking odors! Not much into any type of cooking odors. But, those are all little things, especially when compared with condoms, bodily fluids, chicken bones (not sure why I see fried chicken parts in stairwells in parking garages, bus and train stations, office buildings…who are these people??)
You are so right, I don’t like interacting with my neighbors. They aren’t the best of breed.
Along with the condoms you’ll find chicken bones and Chinese food containers in the hallway (usually in the winter).
UT: Too bad about the neighbors. It’s nice to be friendly with neighbors and it’s really nice to connect with people.
I think it is so sad when people trash the place they live in. Uck on all the .. leftovers in the hallway.
There’s an issue with them. Not you. Why rent if you don’t want renters? Moving onto part 2.
If you say I have prowess, then it must be true…
Speedcat: You’re chock-full o’ prowess.