Merry Christmas 2012

Fantasy:

“‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.”

Reality Check:

Hey, I don’t know about YOUR home, but parents have gone to ridiculous lengths hiding bikes, Big Wheels and Xboxes in attics and crawl spaces and now will be up very late reading instructions that read like the Book of Leviticus or a gov’t spec sheet, on how to assemble that stuff!

Plus cleaning the house…

Plus cooking (even if you are not hosting, you are bringing)…

Re-cleaning the kitchen…

Running to the mall one-more-time…

Dealing with children/grandchildren who are sugared-up!

So to all my friends, particularly the women who orchestrate the Holidays…

Merry Christmas and may God doubly bless you and your families on this day and the coming New Year.

From the Apartment Diva!

Nor’easter, Dec 2012

Just Christmas eve, I passed out Christmas cards for each tenant, along with a letter from the owners to remove ALL furniture, plants, doodads from the decks until the Spring. Along the beach, we get such wicked winds that just slam into the building and they will pummel us all day and night. We have watched chairs bounce and skip down the decks, grateful that it did not flip over the railings to the cars below.

And right on cue, the day after Christmas we were slammed with the THIRD No’easter since Hurricane Sandy!

Really! THREE No’easters!!

No’easter Definition

For those of you who have no clue how nasty these storms are, here is a definition from Weather.com

“These winter weather events are notorious for producing heavy snow, rain, and oversized waves that crash onto Atlantic beaches, often causing beach erosion and structural damage. Wind gusts associated with these storms can exceed hurricane force in intensity.”

The wind gusts hit 70mph. It felt like a raging bull elephant battering my living room wall. I didn’t trust the windows. The dog hid from the storm and I wanted to join him.

One storm door blew away and ended up on a neighbor’s deck, minor damage only. Whew! Not a car windshield.

The wind actually moved a refrigerator that was stored outside. I’m not kidding.

Yet, during the height of the storm, tenants came knocking on my door. Outside of the poor guy who was locked out, please use common sense, stay inside and use your phone to tell us of emergencies. Because frankly, there is a difference between a problem and an emergency: floods are emergencies, needing to borrow something is not!

Up and down our coast, towns have been pushing mountains of sand trying to rebuild our valuable sand dunes, all in vain.

Mother Nature went on another rampage: floods, power outages, trees down, ice, multiple car wrecks.

We’ve had enough.

The Sobber—Selfish Parking

We are all supposed to be adults, over 21, so why do I feel like a playground monitor settling petty squabbles among cliquish children?! We are all neighbors, be nice!

Yes, this was the infamous Sobber, again, the one who hammered the nails through the tile grout: and STILL, nothing, ever is her fault.

My brother-in-law is moderately handicapped and owns a Go-Cart. In order to keep it parked outside and sheltered, we drive it through one parking space and under the outside stairwell. So on the days he plans to drive it, I will park my car there or we will save the parking spot with cones. Although, Mr. I-Am-In-Charge, will needlessly keep the cones out there 24/7, blocking valuable parking spaces.

I guess that irritated The Sobber, as her SUV was parked across 2 spaces, which is odd because she always parked on the street: Now I had to trek up to the 3rd floor and knock on her door.

Me: “You are taking up 2 spaces, please move your car.”

The Sobber: “It’s not my fault, I had to park sideways so I wouldn’t block my friend’s car.”

Me: “Then use the parking spaces on the side, but move your car now.”

The Sobber: “But my SUV won’t fit. It’s really long, I’ll block the other cars.”

Me, walking away: “It is not my problem, buy a smaller one, park on the street, but move your car now, I am in no mood for your games.”

Yeah, that annoyed her, but I kept walking away and she kept whining, “It’s not my fault.”

I admit, I did gesture with my hand, you know, the “talk to the hand” sign—not the other gesture. Ha!

The next day, her friend’s car was parked there, tires way over the line, taking up 2 spaces. This one always parks along the sides of the lot, so I know this is a game. I maneuvered my car right up against her driver’s door. Yeah, she is very slim, but no way could she squeeze between the two cars. I made sure that she would have to climb through her passenger door the next morning.

Guess they both got the message, this problem ended.

This was not the Sobber’s last problem, but that’s another post.

She did move, I don’t miss her.

Tenants: I Am NOT Your Mommy

On Being an Apartment Manager

I am part project manager, part playground monitor, part social worker, part therapist. This is not an easily defined position, but when people are needy, please learn: “I have a low tolerance for ongoing, self-inflicted drama.”

Drama

If you come to me with your problems, repeating the problems then crying about the resulting drama, let me make this clear: “I have a low tolerance for ongoing, self-inflicted drama.”

Whatever the cause, if you pour out your problems to me while trapping me in the laundry room or at my kitchen table, you may end up in this blog. Fair warning.

Stagger Lee

Yes, that is my nickname for this fellow. He drinks a bit and endlessly relives his glory days, very embellished and long-winded stories, then cries that he is not responsible for any of his drama and woe. Moments after I open my front door, he would appear and park himself at my kitchen table or just stroll in-and-out my door all day long.

Me (at 7:30 am with Stagger Lee at my door): “Excuse me, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet and you want coffee and conversation?

Stagger Lee: “Well, I have been up since 5:30 am.”

Me: “Whoopeedo for you! I was up until 3 am taking care of small emergencies; I didn’t knock on your door!”

Stagger Lee: “Well, you could have.”

Me: Sigh. This conversation was doomed from the start.

After suffering through his sad monologues for several weeks, I gave strong, unwanted advice regarding responsibility and to finish the work which we paid him to do.

I confess, I might have been snarky.

He was offended.

He complained to the Business Manager and my brother-in-law that I talk to him as if I was his mother, that he has a mother and that he doesn’t need another one.

Was he looking for more sympathy from other sources?

Whatever, it worked. He no longer complains to me. Hallelujah!

Hormones—New Woman in Town

A while back, a new woman moved in, eager to make new friends. Guy tenants have hormones; they are like sharks with fresh blood in the water: They all were eager to make friends with this new woman.

Can you guess the hormone-ridden problems brewing?

New woman was at my table, very upset, asking me to step in and speak to one of the guys, tell him to back off.

No way am I wading into that bag of snakes!

My solution was to tell her to stop sending mixed messages, they are dudes, they have hormones. Do not invite them in your home; do not hang out in their homes. Dudes think with their testosterone.

Said advice was not wanted, she just wanted to vent, complained that I talked to her like her mother, not a friend.

Oh, I misunderstood, you wanted to just complain and have me sympathize.

See above: “I have a low tolerance for ongoing, self-inflicted drama.”

Marital Discord

This was a tense moment at a friend’s house. My friend was stomping around her home, fluffing pillows with a vengeance while complaining about her husband.

I was her captive houseguest. Drat.

It was obvious she expected me to ‘agree’ with her complaints. I wouldn’t.

I merely stated, “I have lived long enough to know, that when someone is complaining about their partner, to nod my head sympathetically and say nothing, because later, you two will make up, then blame me for everything that was said.”

She wasn’t happy, but no way was I falling for that trap.

Conclusion

Yes, I have my needy moments, sometimes; but hey, they just do not make this blog! It is about THEM, not me. Perks of being the author.

The Dreaded Blue Screen of Death

Last on List…Computer Problem.

My computer is password protected, firewalled and back-upped 3-ways to Sunday. No one touches it, when I leave the room, it is locked down, so when it gets a glitch, I can’t blame it on the cat. (See video on the Cat Burglar.)

The first sign was Microsoft Word crashing, then the email freezing, but Microsoft installed a fix and I thought that I was done.

Not on the List was the Infamous Blue Screen of Death!

The computer froze. NO response.

Did a cold reboot.

Waited.

Waited.

Now, I do have a much underused degree from DeVry, I know some stuff and have books for the rest, but common sense usually prevails.

After an hour of all system checks, it ain’t looking good.

Decide. Try Restore Point? Nope.

Decide. Back-up. Yeah, that 50 gig portable hard drive will bail me out.

Because there is nothing more evil in cyberspace than the dreaded Blue Screen of Death!

The Junk Drawer to the Rescue

This is where ya find out just how organized you truly are. We all start out with good intentions of keeping cables, cords and miscellaneous computer stuff sorted. We all end up with the dreaded junk drawer.

Confess, you are no better.

The best investment was acquiring those black, zippered folders just for computer discs. If you don’t own one, get one now, because it saved my sanity. I actually had thrown all my discs, and the code keys into two different binders. I had panicked, did not know where the *&#@ to start, but as I pulled out these binders, everything I needed was there: Although, mark the BOOT DISC in BLACK marker, not light blue marker, so that you will find it right away!

Still, it was hours of backing up and painstakingly reinstalling everything.

Now, can I get a little sympathy? Has anyone else lost seemingly days out of their lives putting a computer back together?

Has anyone seen their lives flash before their eyes at that thought of LOSING everything?!

Annoying Help from Pseudo Geeks

Has anyone dealt with the annoying helpful comments such as, "Well, why don't you just get one of the little thumb drives to back up your files?"

Really, a THUMB DRIVE would have solved my Blue Screen problem? As if that little baby (and I have a few of them) would hold my files? My software? Why do people feel compelled to fill the air with empty advice and pretend that they have solved a problem!

For example: Years ago, when I was a designer, a pressman brought in a bunch of old computer magazines, gave them to my boss and stated, "This will help solve the problems."

Said pressman couldn't tell an ICU from a CPU, didn't even know if I ran a Mac or PC, nor the software that I ran. But he was going to be the hero to 'solve my design problems.' Wow.

I did tell the pressman and owner that those magazines were like using a lawnmower guide to repair a press, then I quizzed them to show me exactly WHERE in those magazines the problems were solved. Oh, and the fact that in 20 odd years of designing, only ONE pressman had a daily problem getting any job off a press, me thinks his sole expertise was in blaming others for his gross incompetence.

Sadly, his silence was only temporary.

The Infamous To Do List

Murphy’s Law Prevails…

There is no typical day at the apartments, however, this one was just long and frustrating.

I had a List

Up early, I had great ambitions, but that didn’t pan out. No surprise to me. Sigh.

Aside from this job at the apartments, I also freelance as an editor/writer, mostly technical stuff, and yes, I need to put up a link, that is on the infamous To Do List.

This Morning’s List: Submit Bio

I needed to rewrite the resume, again, and create a synopsis of skills for a head hunter so that he may showcase his talent on his website and company brochure.

Yeah! I got picked!

Now in 25 words or less state my skills and achievements.

Go ahead, YOU do it!

I am a wordsmith, it shouldn’t be that hard. Thought about it all weekend, thought I would just pop it into the form and hit submit. A current headshot was also required. Darn.

I had to call two business contacts to ask for the exact formal titles of what I edited. Many documents are legal proposals and contracts for the Federal Government, military and navy. Need to be very precise here: integrity matters.

Microsoft Word Crashed. Twice. AAAARRRGH!

Deadline is 12 noon.

Must recreate the file.

Check, recheck, compose email.

Website Crashed. Really?!

Okay, bad luck comes in three’s. This was Number Three. I should be good.

One half hour later, successfully submitted email and checked with recruiter. Made deadline. Whew.

In the Interim…

Now the tenants are well aware, that if I am at the computer in my little home office, do not expect anything more than a wave. My brother-in-law will handle whatever they need.

But their dog came in. This dog is smart, she demands her treat. My dog is smarter, he knows treats are required. They are persistent and begin begging and pacing around me. I caved and they got their required treats.

They leave.

Not So Helpful Offers of Help

Other tenants are in and out, with problems or offering help as I am trying to fix below. PUHLEASE don’t help me! Please DO NOT offer your advice! I could write a whole other blog on the truly dumb suggestions and equally dumb screw ups people have done with a computer.

Geeks out there are now nodding their heads in sympathy!

Next on the List. Dumb fixes.

I needed to fix the telephone wiring.

Yes, on top of showing empty apartments, screening applicants, answering complaints, doing small repairs, I am the in-house computer tech. I do have a much-underused degree from DeVry University, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend hours chasing down a networking problem.

We had changed cable providers, bundled the phones, fax, peripheral devices, and briefly everything was fine, but then everything stopped. After plugging and replugging peripheral devices, I finally went out and purchased 25’ of new phone line and ran that under and around cabinetry, being very careful not to crimp any wires. That fixed the phone, but now the fax and other devices were out. Darn.

Do you know how annoying it is to move cabinets, again, then crawl under and behind them to recheck and test all connections?

Do you know how dumb ya feel when you discover that you had reconnected the damaged line to the fax machine? Because that is what I had done. Duh!

Evening

And that was my day. I started by 9 a.m. planted in my little corner office, great hopes, a short list and thoughts of having some time to myself. I do live on a beach that I only see and rarely get to walk on. Sigh.

The next day wasn’t any easier…see next post Dreaded Blue Screen of Death.

Nor'easter 2012

Remember that old commercial, "It's not nice to fool Mother Nature."

Let's just add insult to injury and dump 3”—10” of snow on our already battered coastline. Add a 2.2 earthquake in northwest Jersey earlier in the week, then Hurricane Sandy (and its aftermath), and you discover just what you are made of!

Scoffing at the predicted snowfalls, and trusting in the fact that I live on the beach and that there really wouldn’t be any snow because the ocean warms up the air, I went off to work wearing dress clothes and cute shoes: I am girlie some days. (Yep, that was one really long run-on sentence.)

Big regret! We had inches of nasty wet ‘n heavy snow! The only smart thing I did was wear the parka with the hood and fleece lining. I rummaged for the scraper in wheel well of the trunk, knocked off 3” of snow all-around the car, and practically needed to do it 2x, that snow was tenacious.

Home Depot

On my way home, I stopped off at my favorite store—Home Depot—and picked up several bags of ice melt for the apartments. Now I have to give thanks to their great employees, those bags are HEAVY and I can only lift two bags into a cart, but no more. I have conveniently ‘borrowed’ many a women’s husband to load the cart for me. This time I simply walked over to the Greeter, Dave, and drafted him to load my cart. Without a blink, he loaded mine and another woman’s cart: Much appreciated.

Down to the PROs desk, and yes, they missed me: Big hugs from Joey and John. We all asked how everyone made it through the hurricane, how we all were bearing up. After I made the purchase they loaded up my car. Thanked them both profusely, then headed home with the precious cargo.

Tenants . . . Good and No So Good?

We have two fairly new tenants, and they have quickly learned just how different storms on the beach are from storms just a few miles inland and they have pitched in to help. Both were concerned about the slippery stairs and asked us if they could put out the ice melt. Really, they asked permission to help me out?! They are soooo keepers! They found buckets and scoops, and put the ice melt on both stairwells. It was storming, cold and nasty, and they worked hard without looking for any $$ or credit.

Later, I went out with my trusty corn broom and cleared a path down the stairs and around the decks, just enough to hold us until morning when the storm would break: The cold and wind was too brutal to work in even with heavy boots and gloves.

The next morning, Mr. I'm-In-Charge was out there, shovel in hand, bragging how he had shoveled the decks for several hours the night before, then again in the morning, and was basking in the thanks. Really? Because I was up until 1:30 a.m. and didn’t hear any sounds on the decks, and the same snow that I left outside my door the night before, was still there in the morning. While he was bragging to us just how hard and long he worked, I reminded him that three others, including myself, had worked on those decks DURING the storm and that snow was STILL there when I got up: That correction earned me several days of the silent treatment. No loss. He only helps for $$ and full credit.

Like I stated earlier, under stress, “you discover what you (and others) are made of.”

Really Nice Tenant

A wonderful surprise when I opened my door that morning was seeing my car glistening in the morning sun, with all the snow cleared off, and that sweetheart even lifted my wipers up off the glass. Aaaahh, that tenant is a keeper! I want more like her.

Hurricane Sandy ‘n Saints

Yes, there were small local heroes

There are wonderful stories to tell, tenants and neighbors helping each other out. Those stories are still in the rough draft form, and more will be added, so please check back later in the week.

This morning when I pulled into my church’s parking lot I was amazed to see two HUGE tractor trailers from Convoy of Hope parked out back!

Calvary Lighthouse of Lakewood has the largest Food and Clothing Pantry in the county, and for many years I did volunteer there. During this crisis, they were incredibly generous to all who needed. I made a trip down to pick up bags of food for some of the tenants: some are handicapped and some have children. We all lost so much food when the ice in our refrigerators and freezer finally gave out. Those canned goods meant meals for so many.

A woman a few blocks up was fortunate enough to have a gas stove and a generator, plus her husband was a retired chef. This couple spent the week cooking for three of their neighbors who only had electric stoves, and shared power from their generator.

The building owner behind us, a smaller complex, hooked up a generator for his tenants: just enough each day to cook and shower.

In my younger days I waitressed and tended bar, I learned a lot about keeping food hot or cold during buffets. This knowledge was invaluable and I did my best to show tenants how to stretch out their food. So many were ill-prepared, and a few are handicapped and really can't do for themselves. I was impressed with a new tenant who shared her meals and offered help to her new neighbors.

On the news this morning, two teenage girls have been rescuing photos and possessions that have been strewn about their neighborhood. These two have even climbed trees to hunt down these treasures. They have taken them home, dried them and mounted them on boards for everyone to come view. One woman found her wedding photos from 40 years ago!

Yes, these are the things that make up our memories, not the houses or cars. These two girls have given back treasures and hope to their community!

Gotta story, please post a comment, good news.

Hurricane Sandy ‘n Cranky Tenants

Yep, the Tenants began appearing bright and early

Our power went out during the hurricane, the whole town was black; we just didn’t know that most of the Northeast was also down. As the Supers, my housemate and I were under siege to every question and rumor.

Liquor Stores

The first business to open on Main Street was NOT the convenience stores, it was the @#$ Liquor Stores! Seriously, wasn’t there enough partying during the hurricane? I swore that I would rat them out in this blog.

We expected some drinking, a Hurricane Party is traditional. I did not expect the drinking to continue for days. Yep, the liquor stores did well.

The epicenter of the party was the unemployed rock ‘n roll demi-god, whose stories of his glory days only get grander and more boring as the nite wears on; and damn, he has worn me out with his sad tales.

He found a new friend on the ground floor, whom he graciously invited to ride out the storm upstairs, ya know, in case his apartment flooded.

Altruistic thoughtfulness, my a**! The young dude brews his own beer . . . and it has a wicked kick: yeah, free party favors.

These two were joined by another tenant and neighbor. Yep, FOUR guys drinking, running up and down the balconies, gale force winds with raging ocean waters that chewed through the dunes and up our street.

Four drinkers and a hurricane . . . joy.

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Without cell phones, some began bellowing to each other across the parking lot, up and down the decks, they were soooo #$@# rude. This continued for the entire week.

It was cold, it was windy. They also hung out on the decks very late each nite: in the cold and wet, drinking and guitars. They were Frat Boys on Spring Break.

Dang I missed cell phones.

Tenants complained, often, forcing me to walk up the decks, in my jammies, to tell the idiots to drink indoors. One jerk asked if I was wearing one of those Snuggies advertised on TV. Sure, that was funny at 2 a.m.

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Early morning after storm, first tenant in parking lot, yelled up to his friends on the top floor, frustrated because the police had forced him back home.

I came out, dude was loud and people might actually be sleeping.

1st Tenant: “The cops turned me back home, we can’t drive out of town. There is no place in this town to get coffee! I haven’t had any coffee, where can I buy coffee?”

Me: “Come upstairs, I have coffee!”

1st Tenant: “Really, you have coffee? Where did you get it?”

Me: “I made it.”

Tenant: “How? We don’t have power.” As he bolted up the stairs to grab a cup, he kinda looked like the Roadrunner cartoon character.

Really, ya couldn’t boil water and pour it thru the coffee filter to make a cup?

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Yes, I made a LOT of coffee this week, made friends with tenants who normally weren’t friends. Fresh hot coffee brewed all day long, made my home a great place to share news, needs and vent frustrations.

Big thanks to two tenants who manage a Dunkin' franchise, they generously shared bags of coffee. Bless them. I have thanked them many times over.

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2nd Tenant, came by after work to share the news that she had. Now this tenant NEVER spoke to me before, but when I offered her fresh, hot coffee, we became best friends and she hung out every day, lingering over really great coffee. I knew that I could win her over (maybe it was the Dunkin coffee). She also brought reliable news from her job from her coworkers. Reliable news of who had power, and who had access to ANY news media was precious.

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3rd Tenant complaining: “How long will the power be out?”

Me: “Not sure, 7 to 10 days.”

Tenant, loud: “7 to 10 days?! I can’t go that long without power!”

(Like there is a choice, like I can do ANYTHING about the problem, as if I am sitting warm and pretty somewhere sipping a pina colada. Like you’re the first one to complain to me. Appreciate the gift: our homes and cars are intact.)

Me: “Ya know what, I am NOT God this week.”

Tenant: silence

That phrase became my mantra. Notta thing we could do but hunker down.

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Tenant(s): “When will the lights come back on?”

Me: “When the lights flicker, that’s a sign.”

Repeat: “I am not God this week, I do not know.”

Truthfully, when the lights did come on, I was sitting in my car surfing the Internet. When I heard the tenants yelling, I wouldn’t even look up to see the commotion, I did want another problem! But the sight of all those deck lights flickering was like watching arcade games come back to life. Yeehaw!

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There is a tenant I call Eeyore, the sad donkey from Winnie the Pooh.

Eeyore: “Do you think that it would help if I called the power company?”

Me: “Like you’re the first one to complain? Like they don’t know?”

Eeyore: “Do you think it’s the money towns that will get the power first?”

Me: “Explain how Manahawkin got power. That is not a money town!” (It is a rural town in South Jersey and very close to the barrier islands.)

Eeyore: “I go to these Bible studies, do you think that this is a sign of the end times?”

Really, discuss politics AND religion?! Groan.

Repeat: “I am not God this week, I do not know.”

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Gas

Tenant(s): “Where can I get gas, I am almost out?!”

This was Day One after the storm!

Didn’t ya hear the news about the ginormous storm, or read the flyer that I posted on EVERY door, warning to take precautions: stock up, buy gas, batteries, cigarettes, etc. And you cry that your tank is empty?

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I Can’t Turn My Stove On

We cook with gas, some stoves have an electric ignition . . . BUT use a match and light the burners. Had to give instructions about pots of water and burners for heat and cooking.

This WARMED the place up; I would not say that it ever GOT warm.

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Bathing

Well, campfire-style bathing is not my favorite, but a big bowl of steaming water, mixed with some cool water from tub faucet, worked darn well. It felt so good to pour a bucket or two of heated water over my frozen body, quickly towel off, then put on several layers of clothing.

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Curlers

As a woman, washing hair is only part of the problem, lack of a blow dryer for styling made me resort to the old-fashioned standby: curlers. Yes, I actually had a few in the drawer, but when I finished rolling up my hair, my mother’s face stared back at me. Groan. She came back to haunt me. I did have share some laughs while showing off the curlers underneath my kerchief.

And yes, my hair was styled, no ponytails for me.

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Day 3, Getting Out of Dodge

My housemate and I needed to get away from the tenants, rumors and complaints. We also needed to find a cell phone tower and call the building owners and our families, and charge our cell phones.

The whole town was black, we just didn’t know that most of the Northeast was down; we were in a news desert. We did not know the extent of the devastation. We did not know that just a few blocks over, homes were destroyed.

Under the pretense of searching for a gas station for the tenants, we drove 10 miles to find a cell phone signal. No kidding, 10 miles! We were horrified to see rows of telephone poles snapped in half; trees thru houses; and the endless carnage of households gutted, furniture, toys and possessions in huge piles of black bags at the curb. I am so grateful: we only lost power.

Home Depot was open, running on generators, and they were so needed.

All traffic lights were out. Cones were placed across intersections to prevent left-hand turns. The police did allow some crazy U-turns on the highway. That was fun.

We drove a 40 mile loop and found not one open gas station and only two working traffic lights, all was dark. The worst was passing entire neighborhoods cordoned off: the pall of tragedy broke our hearts.

We lost power and heat for 6 nights, that is all. We had plenty of running water, drinkable water, boiling wasn't necessary. We were blessed. Some tenants needed to stop complaining.

While driving around, we were finally able to get warm, thawed out and able to escape from complaints that we were powerless to alleviate.

Repeat, “I am not God this week.”

We were blessed. Our block had minimal damage. No lives were lost. Grace of God.

Home Depot Parking Lot Laughs

While the guys were still inside wrapping up the latest shopping trip, I went outside and moved my little hatchback into the contractor’s pick-up area. While sitting out there, I watched a comedy show as two contractors in front of me struggled to load a dryer into a work van.

I had to admire them, the older man was doing his best to maneuver the dryer on a dolly to line up with the door of the van, and then hold it steady while the younger dude struggled to shove it in.

It wasn’t going well. It took a few attempts. At one point, part of the dolly was so far under the van I feared for the muffler and undercarriage. Finally, the young man climbed into the van and the two men managed to shove the dryer in, trapping the one man inside.

Young dude was a good 6’ tall, and yes, quite studly. But nevertheless, he had to duck-walk his way out: hunched over, arms braced for balance, slipping and sliding over assorted supplies and tools now strewn across the floor.

It was like watching someone crawl through a child-sized fun house obstacle course.

Finally, and not too gracefully, the young dude stumbled out, almost into the arms of his boss.

Laughing, I applauded, very loudly, making sure they heard me.

The boss turned around, saw me, and exclaimed, “I KNEW you were watching us!”

Me: “Yep, it was a great show, but I’ve been there too.”

Young man gave a bow.

It was a moment.

Hurricane Sandy . . . The Storm

Full Moon and High Tide

At 7pm, as the storm was raging, the power went out. We did not know just how long we would struggle in the cold and dark. Losing power also plunged us all into a veritable news desert: we had no idea how huge, how thorough the devastation was in the Tri-State area, never mind, our own Jersey Shore. My cousin in California knew more than we did.

We were without power, electric, heat, TV and cell phone. We were not able to travel out of town (we are merely 7 blocks wide and maybe 1 ½ miles long) and had no idea that landmarks such as Asbury Park, Seaside Heights, Long Beach Island were devastated.

As I said earlier, the ocean looked like it wanted to devour us: truth was, it had teeth. It devoured the dunes: they were 20 ft high and just as wide, built up with old Christmas trees and planted with dune grass. These dunes were solid and well planned: but no match for the relentless on-shore pounding of the surf and a tidal surge.

White Water Raging

This complex is about a football field from the boardwalk, the dunes are right behind them, a normal high tide is about 30-50 yards further: NEVER has the sea breached Ocean Avenue. It was evacuated, not us.

From my storm door, I watched in horror as the ocean rage up my street, white water rapids, 2+ feet deep. When I saw the water’s foam racing over the sidewalk into the parking lot, I was afraid. Not wanting to alarm my house guests (one elderly and frail), I called for her daughter to come look, then we both raced into a bedroom to peer through that window. The river filled the street and covered the lawn across the street and was creeping up ours, it covered the first step.

The lights had gone out by then, but when my very tall neighbor went out to move his truck, and turned on the headlights, there was no mistaking how deep and fast-moving the water was: In my head I was screaming for help.

Of course, some tenants were having an old-fashioned, drinking hurricane party. They raced up and down the decks, then stood in the flood waters! Were they insane? The force of that current could have ripped them away to certain death.

As an apartment manager, my brother-in-law and I are very much responsible for the safety of these tenants, but there was nothing I could do but pray that this water would hold back. I am still very grateful that the 2 women from downstairs had elected to camp out with us overnight. It would have been impossible to rescue them.

The water came up within 5’ of the building and no higher.

The Morning After Hurricane Sandy

Not so much as a puddle in the ground floor units, which are actually a little below ground level.

None of our vehicles were damaged.

My neighbor lost his truck parked up the street. He is a private contractor, that is his livelihood.

When we saw the debris the water left behind, it was 5 feet from our building. Thoughts such as ‘Grace of God’ prevail.

The ocean ran north like a raging river, as far as the horizon. The ocean DOES NOT run parallel to the beach, it runs ONTO the beach.

The ocean ran over and under the boardwalk. It washed dozens of cinder blocks into the street that had been under the miniature golf course.

It lifted the bandstand gazebo up like an umbrella, but left it upright. A cherry-picker replanted it. Really? Buildings were stripped, roofs peeled off, but the gazebo remained upright?

There is more to tell, next post, The Tenants. Sigh.

Post Hurricane Sandy

Sent from  cellphone so forgive late night typonese. power went out Monday @ 7pm. Tonite it went back on, 5 days in the dark, not even cellphoones worked, signals n networks down. We where the news across the country, but we knew so little, talk radio. tonite first time i had internet or email! but we r so blessed, out apt was so safe, people next town lost everything. i had to heat with water boiling on stovetop, but our water was safe to drink. my other boss lost her house! she just moved in and was planning the family holiday dinners. so tragic.  the ocean breached the dunes, the water had teeth. it ate the dunes, rushed under n over the boardwalk n raced up my street for 3 blocks!  it looker whitewater rafting. it came to 5 ft  of building n part of parking lot, over bottom stairs. so grateful the downstairs tenants we with us. it was pitch black, when my neighbor waded to move his truck, turned on headlights i was horrified n scared, the water was so deep. grace of God it didn't run thru our building. there r more stories, but will  post when computer n internet working. i hope others r well.

The Sobber...Nails Hammered thru the Bathroom Tile

Nothing, I mean NOTHING, was ever this tenant’s fault: And worse, she could turn on the tears; in fact, I called her “The Sobber.”

Again, she called me upstairs, horribly upset, crying that something terrible has happened, and truthfully I don’t remember the complaint, because all I saw were over a dozen nails inside her shower!

Yep! This person actually HAMMERED NAILS under the edge of the tub-surround, between the tiles!

All I could do was stammer.

Me: “You HAMMERED NAILS thru the grout?! What would possess you to do this?!”

She: “It’s NOT my fault!”

Me, again: “You DROVE nails thru the grout. I have never seen anyone do this before! WHY would you do this?”

She: “It’s NOT my fault!” followed by some long-winded explanation about preventing mildew on her washcloths and towels, which I didn’t hear because my brain froze at the sight of all those nails.

Me: "You cracked the grout and you peeled back the tub-surround! Water will get behind the walls." I then pulled out the cell phone and snapped photos. This, no one will believe.

She: “There’s no damage! Water can’t get back there.”

Me, again: “Really, you forced nails behind the tub-surround and cracked the grout, water WILL get in there.”

She: “No it won’t, the shower doesn’t reach that high.”

Me: “Have you never heard of condensation? The water will travel down the nail, behind the tiles, into the wall, destroy the sheetrock and studs, plus leave rust stains. Are you going to pay for this damage?”

She: “It’s NOT my fault!” Then more blathering about mildew.

Me: Dialed the handyman to get up here NOW: He is not going to believe this either.

And yes, she was a blonde. She had many complaints, all told with heaving sobs, but they were NEVER, EVER her fault!

PS: We knew these people in kindergarten, and they are still turning on the tears to get their way decades later.

Hurricane Sandy 2012-The Ocean Raged up the Street

Already the questions have begun.

Friday:

Now I did create a flyer on hurricane preparedness, copied from the township's website, with a reminder to remove all furniture, plants and stuff from the decks by Sunday afternoon.

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Tenant(s): “Do we have to evacuate?”

Me: “I don't know yet. Gov. Christie is holding a news conference, we'll know then. Plus, I gave you the emergency preparedness printout from the town’s website.”

Tenant(s): “How will we know if we have to evacuate?”

Me: “When the police loudspeakers say so.”

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Saturday:

Tenant: “What should I do if my dog has to go out during the storm?”

(Really, is this the first storm you ever saw?)

Me: “Let it poop in the tub!” (Yes, I said that.)

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Later that day, I was on the ground floor, checking the yards, walkways then hauling stuff out from under the stairwells, moving heavy planters off the retaining walls, etc.: In short, I got a real workout.

Mr. I'm-In-Charge: “The stuff under the stairs, it’s safe, it can stay.”

(Really, why does he think that he's my boss and must tell me how to do my job?)

Me: “I have lived here long enough, glass panes, plants and all this stuff will fly thru the air!”

Mr. I'm-In-Charge: “No it’s safe.”

Me: “It will become a wind tunnel down here. MOVE IT ALL!”

Mr. I'm-In-Charge then proceeded to argue about the dirt from the planters (which I just moved) washing out and clogging the drains. He actually lifted one back up to the retaining wall so that he could inspect it.

Sigh. I know, I’m just a girl.

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Tenant(s): “Hey, can I come down for coffee during the storm?”

Me thinking: I don't drink, yet, but I know where the booze is, because I may need some!

Me plotting: This is SO going on my blog!

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In all fairness, I have often said to tenants and neighbors, “One day I’m writing a book and I am naming names!”

They always laugh, thinking that I am just being dramatic. This may not be a book, but this blog is close enough . . . for now: And one day, it may earn a few $$.

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Sunday

Can't wait to see what this day will bring. Ha!

Sorry fans, I did anticipate that today would be crazy and some good stories to share. I still have memories of Hurricane Irene and how exhaustingly difficult certain tenants and neighbors were: but those people have long since moved on. Whew!

So this morning was spent double-checking the decks, and the empty units to make sure the windows were closed. The rest of the day I cooked up a storm (no pun intended), so if power does go out, we will certainly have some good tasting cold meals. I then re-packed the freezer and filled all empty spaces bottles of water: I will have non-leaky ice for my refrigerated food.

Well tomorrow afternoon, the brunt of the storm will slam onto the Jersey Shore. Already the ocean is so wild, it's ready to devour the coastline. Quite a few people were down there snapping photos, and of course, jogging. I have seen No’easters do some damage, one left the boardwalk like someone had shaken it like one does a hallway rug, utterly twisted for miles with debris everywhere.

The ground floor tenants have repeatedly asked if they will get flooded, and all I can do is advise them to move as much as possible off the floor, particularly electronics. We can't predict a tidal surge.

Other than that: Respect the fury of nature, there is no other choice.

If you’re in the path of this storm, hunker down.

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Monday: Hurricane Day

At 8 am the tenants trooped in: I was still asleep. I love company in my jammies. Nothing like a dozen questions, worry and, “Do you have a smoke? Is there coffee made?” So they all left, and yeah, it doesn’t look too good.

The ‘Go Bag’ is packed.

Tote bags are ready to be filled with food.

Towns north and south of us have mandatory evacuation—but not us?

Parking lot is nearly empty, many tenants have left, lucky them.

Ocean hasn’t breached the dunes yet. High Tide later tonite.

At 1:35 Firetrucks blasted sirens and warned evacuation of Ocean Avenue. That road runs parallel to the ocean. We are 3 buildings UP from that road. We are not being evacuated.

First wave of tenants from ground floor are now camped out up with us, and their hyper Jack Russell Terrier.

Have a laugh: Someone just drove by in a pickup truck, with a burgundy lounge chair in the back! Like this is the perfect day to move furniture? Or does he want a comfy chair to watch the hurricane roll by? Can't make this up.

4:45 pm We have had several mini power outages, unfortunately, I was working on this post when it happened, when I rebooted and went back to this file, ALL my HTML was changed! All paragraph marks were changed to line break marks. Even the earlier sections were changed. It was tedious putting it all back. Must check rest of stories, and yes, another story was also corrupted and that story was posted days ago!

The wind is scary. I had to change sneakers for traction on the decks. When I hit the outside stairwell, I had to hold on, the gusts are that strong. The sand dunes are collapsing, but so far, no water on the boardwalk. The boardwalk is 8' above the sand.

Part of our roof has blown off. I have a massive headache. Can't wait for tomorrow!

Tenants called. One storm door flew open and pane of glass was blown out, but didn't shatter. Showed her how to tie a storm door shut with a cloth ribbon (tie it to the outside storm door handle, pull it thru, shut door, wrap ribbon around door knob. voile!)

Other ground floor tenant asked if they flood, may they camp in empty 3rd floor unit. Ran up and unlocked door and turned heat on. There is no room left in this apartment for anymore visitors!

Post your storm stories.

Parking Lot Vandal Doing the Tangle on Fresh Sealant

Along with the building renovations, we needed to re-pave the parking lot: And keeping in mind that we are a tourist town, we aimed to have this all done BEFORE the summer crowd swarmed in (see Parking Lot Wars).

Finally a contractor and a schedule was chosen, then flyers were given to each tenant apologizing for the inconvenience, but everyone must park on the street for several days. We thought that we had it planned well, then we realized that a huge music event would be held nearby—Bamboozle! It was literally within walking distance. We didn’t need tickets; we heard the music loud and clear, particularly when our own Jersey son, Bon Jovi, took the stage.

We expected the worst: music lovers swarming into our town using all available parking, so we postponed the work—but the worry was for nothing, the promoters had provided enough shuttle service for the crowds and we weren’t impacted at all.

There was the expected grumbling from the tenants over the re-scheduling, but they did cooperate and the work was done on time.

One former tenant was the exception: Somewhere around 4 a.m., he and his girlfriend pulled up, so that he could jump out and run crazy-8s all over the new blacktop!

Seriously, the man ran and stomped all over the parking lot in the dead of night! Apparently he was too dumb to know that since the lot was only sealed, not paved with asphalt, his attempted vandalism would leave nary a trace. But he did get a much needed workout, and truly proved to all his former neighbors how much he wasn’t missed!

I Almost Got Hurt!

Last year, the owners began exterior renovations on the complex: painted the buildings, which required extensive scraping of the exterior walls and decks; workmen replaced wood on the walkways and stairs; in general, quite a noisy mess. It was a struggle for us overseeing the renovation and for the tenants: Every few days it was a new request for the tenants to bear with us. But hey, have you ever been to New York City and walked for blocks under massive scaffolding: New Yorkers adapt.

We posted letters on each door describing expected work so that they could prepare. Still, there were complaints/issues:

Parking:

Every few days I would slowly walk the entire parking lot, picking up the nails, screws, and all scraps of metal that I call tire-killers. Hey, I park here too! Despite my diligence, more than a few of us still got flats. We asked tenants to park away from the decks and walkways to avoid debris, paint splatters and such from landing on their cars. Some didn’t and complained about damage. Really?

Caution-Workmen:

A tenant burst into our apartment, screaming that they were going to sue, because they ALMOST tripped over a piece of wood: Said piece of wood was smaller than a woman’s thumb. Now, I gotta ask…it was an open stairwell, clearly trashcans, buckets, tools, men and the sound of power tools would urge caution. There are two staircases, you are walking dogs…why would you choose the stairwell with power tools buzzing? Why would you scream that you ALMOST tripped? If so dangerous, why would you choose to come back up the same way, weaving through buckets, tools, lumber and men working?

I had to create and post “Under Construction” signage urging tenants to be cautious and use common sense. (Yes, those last two words were deliberate.)

Painting:

When it came time to paint the walkways, we carefully scheduled and informed the tenants on which times that they would not be able to enter/nor exit their apartments, and to please plan accordingly. We did our best to accommodate work schedules and other needs.

And yes, one dude, who does not work by the way, demanded, “Well, what if I have to leave?”

Me: “Plan your day so that you don’t have to.”

Dude: (Again.) “Well, what if I have to leave?”

Me: “If I see your boot tracks in the paint, you will be charged!”

Dude: “What if something comes up.”

Me: “You will plan ahead or you will be charged for re-painting.”

Thought that it should be simple. Oh, and we asked people to park away from the buildings while we painted. Of course, that didn’t go all that easy.

Home Depot:

Well it has been awhile since I wrote about my favorite store, which brings me to my other job: my boss sent me to Home Depot to just pick up a few things. I did warn her that because of these renovations, the staff knew me very well and that they could actually prolong this little errand. As I passed each department, staff came out to offer help, asked how projects were going, exemplified great customer service: all much appreciated, but this trip I wasn’t a contractor, just doing a small errand.

Boss did ask what took me so long, but she had been forewarned that I could be gone awhile. She laughed, but I did bring her back a cup of Dunkin’ so all was forgiven.

Cat Burglar Nabbed

Knowing that we would be out all day, I set up the webcam to keep an eye on the front door and the windows. Instead of catching any miscreants in the act, I found out what my cat does all day: she camps out on my desk, sheds her Angora fur everywhere and paces over my keyboard (you can actually hear the keys clacking under her paws).

If I knew that she would be the star of the video posted on the Internet, I would have put away my laundry and spruced things up.

Go have a laugh…your pets are just as goofy.

Illegal Dumpers Caught

We have a dumpster at the street side of our parking lot, obviously it is intended solely for our use, but too often, we have discovered that some contractor has filled it up with his debris. This means that our tenants will leave their bags of trash on the ground around the dumpster; eventually these bags will leak, seagulls or squirrels will spread the contents around, then we have to clean up that disgusting mess.

A few years ago, the super next door was doing some repairs and his guys dumped their lumber and debris in our dumpster, again, but this time I was there to see it. I ran outside and had a few words with him, he ignored me. Yeah, I know, I am just a girl. Wrong!

I pulled out the lumber and everything else that I could reach, and threw it back on his property: Broke a nail doing so. Now I’m mad. I went inside and called his property management company, like that got any satisfaction.

Not too long afterwards, I told a friend of mine to dump the debris from her work van next door. Fair is fair.

Upon seeing her do that, the super stormed up my stairs, banged on my door and angrily pointed at the guilty van that is now in my lot, and that he was calling the police.

In fact, the owner of that van was at my kitchen table having coffee.

No problem, I had this one.

I reminded him about that work he did on the front decks, I reminded him that I threw the boards back on his property, but there was plenty more debris in the dumpster, plus he, his workers and his tenants use our dumpster daily.

He sputtered some more.

I stood my ground.

He left. I called his management company, again.

Eventually that super was replaced. Yeah.

Second Illegal Dumper

Again, someone has been placing construction trash in our dumpster, quite a bit of it, but always very early in the morning so we could not catch the culprit. However, one afternoon I got lucky. I just happened to glance out my door and there is a neighbor with a large trash can over one shoulder and he was holding the lid of the dumpster open with his other arm.

I yelled. He looked up, and then turned to continue dumping.

Wrong move, I know this guy, I also know the tenant that he is friendly with, I got him cold.

We had words.

I couldn’t hear him, but I sure can read body language: Arrogance and testosterone does not scare me. I clearly let him know that he does not have permission from us, that his friend does not have permission, that I will call the police and press charges for illegal dumping.

He left.

Yes, his tenant friend got an earful, and of course, he played dumb.

Let’s just be good neighbors.

Parking Lot Wars

This complex is actually three buildings up from the beach, and we are surrounded by homes and other rental properties, all with inadequate parking. In the summer season, we are very much a tourist town, and we welcome them all as they bring tremendous tourist $$ for our area. And quite frankly, most of them are day trippers or weekenders, who are looking for a great family get-away: No different than many of us. Of course we laugh about the legendary question we locals are always asked, “Where’s the beach?”

Seldom is anyone more than a few blocks away from the ocean, they simply became disoriented trying to find a parking spot, so they can’t find the beach—which brings me back to the subject of this post.

There are some opportunistic people who have rudely pulled their cars into our lot and have left them for the weekend, totally disregarding the signs posted at the curb with a picture of a tow truck hooking a car. (They have received stickers slapped over their windshield. Yep, hard to remove.) We have just enough parking spaces in our lot for the tenants who own cars. The complex next door has assigned spaces with none slotted for visitors, plus many of the houses around here do not even have a driveway. So understandably, we locals are protective and territorial about our parking spaces.

Following are some of the excuses I have heard from those that I have firmly asked to move their cars, now!

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Them: “I am visiting my friend next door.”

Me: “So park next door.

Them: “Well, you have all these empty spaces! What’s the problem?”

Me: “Yes, and those who pay rent here will be coming home from work and expect to park here.”

Them: eye roll.

Me: “Your choices are: maybe you get towed, or maybe I slap a large, sticky sign on your windshield. Your choice.”

Them: stare down.

Me: “Choose now.” Cell phone in hand.

Them: leave.

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I spotted a man with a bunch of kids, unloading his trunk of beach paraphernalia: Obviously he is planning to stay the entire day. I challenged him that this is a private lot.

His reply: “I’m visiting my brother! Whatsa matter, ain’t my brother allowed to have visitors?!”

Me: “Name and apartment number of your brother?”

Him: silence.

Me: Stare down.

Him: leaves.

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My personal favorite reactions are: the huff, the eye roll and the self-righteous statement, “I’m just visiting my friend.” Yeah, and that particular friend already has her boyfriend, her cousin and her mother in the lot. It was such a regular problem with this tenant that most of us gave up. I don’t always win the battles, thankfully she moved.

Fourth of July fireworks brings so many people from all over the county, and it has been such a problem with people parking in our lot, demanding that somehow it is their right, that they know someone here, they have a family, there is no other parking. Enough!

Now on that holiday, I just hang out in the lot with a spreadsheet of tenants’ car descriptions, plus license plate numbers. It seems to be more effective to have a list in front of me, as if I am now official? I actually have fun while out there, chatting with the tenants, sometimes sharing their snacks, and I get a little tan.

Dunkin’ Donuts and a Thirsty Labrador

I confess I am addicted to Dunkin’ Donuts coffee: Wawa’s coffee is a close second. If there is a 12-Step program for coffee addiction, I wouldn’t go: It just tastes so good!

In the immortal words of David Letterman,“I drink way too much coffee, but without I have no personality.”

We have two truly great tenants who each manage a Dunkin franchise. They are so sweet, that whenever they ask for a favor, they repay me with a cup of my favorite brew. Aaahh, there are perks working here.

But I digress, my dog is the star here. My baby is a black Lab and Rotweiller mix: 100 lbs. of pure happiness.

So, I had been out running errands with a neighbor, and he treated me to a cup of coffee, plus a Coolata with whipped cream for my housemate. Nice.

When we came home and pulled into the parking lot, I saw that my housemate was sitting outside on the second floor deck with the dog. So I called up to him, told him that we have coffee and that I would slide the two cups under the railing onto the deck.

He didn’t hear me. The dog did.

I placed the coffees on the deck, then turned my back to get the rest of the packages from the car. When I turned around again, the dog had his snout in the Coolata, and was drilling down through the whipped cream. I shouted at him to stop, and the poor thing just looked at me with the most hurt, confused look on his face. It was if he was saying, “What? You put it on the floor right in front of me, what’s wrong?” The dog then dove back for the rest of the whipped cream.

By the time I snatched the cup away from him, the whipped cream was completely gone, nothing but coffee left. I walked up the stairs to the deck, handed what was left of the Coolata to my housemate, and laughed, “Well, its your dog, toss it or drink it, but I’m not sharing my coffee .” My cup had a solid lid, it was pristine.

Yeah, I was mean, but then again, family members are allowed these moments.

Yes, now whenever I bring home a Coolata, the dog gets a dab of whipped cream, only from a spoon, not the cup.

Quarters Demanded after Midnite

This is a 24/7 job: Emergencies such as busted water pipes, the occasional storm damage and medical emergency will get us mobilized pretty quick, and we accept that it is part of the job.

What is NOT part of the job are knocks on the door or window after midnight because you need quarters for the laundry room!

Yes, I fell asleep on the sofa watching TV one night and a tenant saw that light, so she banged on the door looking for laundry change.

Why would anyone even think to knock on my door after midnight, or anyone’s door? I have another job. I also freelance at home. I do need to sleep.

Now I know that this tenant was hanging out all day with her buddies, she doesn’t work, so schedules are a foreign concept to her. But her boyfriend works two jobs and would be coming home soon and expecting dinner and his uniforms ready: She was in a jam.

Lack of planning on your part, is NOT an emergency for me.

She wasn’t embarrassed when I answered the door in my jammies.

She wasn’t embarrassed that I was downright snarky about the hour and the non-emergency.

She wasn’t going away. I caved. I gave her the quarter.

I was now wide awake and wondering, “What the heck was now playing on that TV?”

Tenant moved a year later. Yeah.

Sadly that is not the only time a tenant has woken me late at night or very early. The early morning risers all excuse themselves by saying, “Well, I have been awake since 5 a.m. and waited until your blinds were open.” Well, thank you for your consideration and the expectation that I must be up, dressed and ready by 7 a.m.

When I am up at 1:30 a.m. because of a busted pipe, let me bang on your door, park myself uninvited at your table and just share my problems.

Often when these rude (and thankfully only a few) tenants ask, “Oh, did I wake you?” I very simply reply, “No, it’s okay, I had to get up and answer the door.” Sometimes they catch the sarcasm.

Wacky Water Lady

This woman never lived in this complex, heck she lived in another county, but she truly was somebody’s bizarre tenant.

Many years ago I worked in office that rented space on the ground floor and with residential units on the second floor: My office door opened to the front parking lot and the main road. We all knew each other, and often shared polite chit-chat in the parking lot.

One evening while I was working late, doing some serious OT finishing up a large project. When I finally set it to print, I stepped outside my door to grab a smoke.

As I was enjoying my break and the night air, ‘twas debating whether to walk over to the 7-11 and grab a cup of coffee and a snack.

I guess my cigarette smoke wafted up to Wacky Water Lady’s window because she dumped a bucket of water out her window! I am not kidding and am very grateful that the ledge caught the brunt of the water. That got my attention. I debated upon banging on her door, making an issue—but we all know, that tactic seldom ends well.

Settled for a trip across the street to 7-11 and shared the story with them.

Yes, they confirmed that she is wacky.

Yes, I showered when I went home. I’m pretty sure it was only water, but. . .

The next day at work I shared the story with bosses and co-workers, and we laughed, sympathy was offered: but then the young guys walked in with their own story about Wacky Water Lady.

The week before we had some torrential rain and the back parking lot was flooded with huge puddles and one of the guys drove into the lot like Beau and Luke Duke splashing through the puddles.

Wacky Water Lady accused the young man of killing her tropical fish. Huh?

Yes, because everyone knows that when you clean out your aquarium, your first choice to safely store the tropical fish is in the parking lot puddles! Yep, fish just love swimming in puddles contaminated with oil and anti-freeze residues, best thing for them.

Tornados Over the Ocean, September 2012

First, Just a Tornado Watch

Now Jersey does not have a long history of tornado activity, but I have been up close and personal to several! So when a tornado watch is posted for the Northeast, I am not happy, but off to my part-time job a few towns away I must go.

The sky does not look good. My co-worker and I are antsy—we both have lived through tornados, and lived to tell. We keep a steady eye on the wind, the sky and the debris blowing by the front door.

Power goes off on next block. Yep, not a good sign.

Call home, so far so good.

Come home around 5 pm and start knocking on doors for tenants to pull in their deck stuff: chairs, plants and anything that could fly away and crash into a windshield.

Difficult tenant comes out, states, “It is ONLY a watch.” He has the most crap on his deck.

I reply, “Do NOT split hairs with me. Move it all inside, NOW!”

He negotiates.

I don’t.

At 8 pm, it seems as though the storm missed us, at 8:36 pm the wind whipped around and slammed into the building: Ocean looks like a washing machine; debris is flying down the block. So glad that I already walked the dog.

So glad that remaining deck stuff REMAINED and did not crash into any windows. Whew!

Second, I Watched 2 Tornadoes

The following week, again the weather looks bad, clouds are way too low overhead and they have that funny grey-green shade with very raggedy edges. It doesn’t look good. I went out on the deck and looked east and west, yeah, these could be tornado clouds. Drat.

Two neighbors join me, the wind has picked up, now blowing from the south. I mention to first neighbor that the one cloud over the ocean is particularly ominous and might be forming the top of a funnel. He scoffs that the wind is from the south, “It’s nothing.”

Really? So why are parts of the cloud blowing towards the south?! Duh, I have seen tornados up close and far away—this is how some start.

First neighbor leaves, second one stays: We decide to go up to the top deck for a better view.

We both watched in fear as the top of a massive funnel took shape over the ocean. Incredulously, a long, slinky sidewinder formed next to it. TWO tornados are now over the ocean. I live on that ocean.

We are transfixed. Neither of us has a camera, not even our cell phones with cameras.

Running through my mind is the terrifying thought, “How do I evacuate this building if those twisters touch down and travel inland!” “Will they be water spouts?” “What can I do?”

Then both tornados dissipated. Whew!

The next day I tell the same co-worker from earlier and her eyes popped. She knew exactly what I saw; her neighbor had caught both twisters on camera and showed them to her. I want a copy to show neighbor who scoffed at me. I will post if I can track it down.

Shark Steam Cleaner

Okay, this is a blatant product pitch, testimonial for this product. No, they are not subsidizing this blog. Yet.

A few years ago a tenant moved out and they weren’t nice, heck, they were spiteful. I got one whiff and a look at the bathroom and knew, that even with gloves, I was NOT going near that room: they left a swamp in fridge, grease was ground into the stove knobs, and plastic was melted on the burners and it ran down under the stovetop. I bought the Shark Steamer just for this unit.

There are other steamers, but the one other that I had tried was a kettle-style which needed to heat up all the water in the reservoir before it would produce steam. It reminded me of a car’s radiator when it overheats: I felt that it was dangerous with steam and hot water waiting to explode if I dropped it.

The Shark Steamer heats the water up as the steam is expelled out the nozzle, or the hose with cleaning brushes, and the water in the reservoir stays cool. The unit has survived being dropped and banged around without spilling, spitting or burning me. But back to that nasty apartment. It was so much better aiming a hose of steam at questionable stains in the bathroom, then watching them melt, with assurance that all was being thoroughly disinfected at the same time. Really, why scrub with cleaners and fumes when a few moments of steam will loosen up the crud for you?!

I now use the steamer, and its many attachments, throughout all bathrooms and kitchens. It is invaluable in cleaning out food and gel-like residues in fridges, grease under a stove top, and disinfecting all kitchen drawers and shelves. It does a great job in removing layers of shelving papers, removing latex paint blobs, plus does an amazing job on cleaning the grout in the bathroom.

The steamer is not a total substitute for all cleaning products, but when used, there are no fumes to breathe or residue of cleaning products to rinse off. When I have used it on floors or cabinets in my own home, I have noticed that things stay cleaner just a little longer and the floors feel great under bare feet. I do recommend that every so often that you run a little vinegar through it, just like cleaning a coffee pot. My first unit broke when an attachment became clogged and I was lost until I replaced it.

And the bonus—I use it to steam winkles out of my clothes. It doesn’t totally replace an old-fashioned iron, but it touches up my clothing quite nicely.

Heavy Tools, EMTs and an Oncoming Train

I was rummaging in the back of my closet, pulled out a tote from the back, but did not see the #$@% bolt cutter standing behind it. And yes, it is the same as the picture at left, but that is not me holding it.

The metal blade of the #$@# bolt cutter crashed onto my instep.

Yes, there was plenty of @#$@#$@#$ screaming.

Stumbled, hopped to freezer, grabbed the ice pack and placed on foot.

Sat in chair catching breath.

OK, nothing broken, but bruised and throbbing.

Now why may you ask would I have a heavy-duty bolt cutter, over 2’ long, made out of solid steel in my closet?

Because if I don’t lock it up, certain miscreants will use it to unchain the equipment and/or locks that I have around this complex.

Next day, I hiked around Home Depot, on their lovely concrete floors, buying apartment supplies. The PROs department guys give me huge smiles and waves. I am flattered. (Yes, the PROs desk loves me; I am the prettiest contractor there, arguably my competition is grumpy old men in construction boots and dusty, dirty work shirts. I’ll take the compliments however they come.)

I don’t bother to speculate if it is me they love or my bosses’ credit card: It is me.

Foot is now throbbing, convinced leg and back to join in the misery. Concentration getting thin. Need to go home and find something good in the medicine cabinet.

Wednesday:

Foot better. Drove one hour for a meeting. This is not a job, just a maybe meeting.

Sigh.

Dove one hour home.

Gave handicapped neighbor a ride: he is not looking good, not breathing well. Put out my smoke; tell him to put out his.

Now these are the fun parts…pay attention!

Turn down side street, go over RR crossing. Gates CLOSE in front and behind me. Yes I am ON the tracks. No lights, no ding-ding-ding. I am penned in front and back ON the tracks!

Yes, there is a train coming from the next station, it is ONE block away (really less than a football field)! Is this the LOCAL or the EXPRESS?! (Do you remember that train scene in the movie “Hancock?” THAT, not my life flashed through my head!) Do you know how BIG a train is when it is barreling down the track that you are stuck on?!

I back up, hit gate, which catches on my rear trunk spoiler. Some wonderful woman jumps out of her car, bangs on my window and lifts the gate for me to move under. Said “Thank you” and hit reverse!

The train was the EXPRESS. Tell God, “THANK YOU!” Many times.

Come home, same neighbor comes upstairs so I can repair his glasses (another one of my many talents). Moments later, he fell out of his chair onto carpet. While lying on carpet, pleads, “Please don’t call the EMTs.” Sure, phone already in hand, furiously dialing 9-1-1!

Police, EMTs arrive, oxygen is administered. I am outside smoking and counting every construction boot stomping over my new carpet. Neighbors start to cluster and peer into window then tell me what is going on.

Did I need that play-by-play?

EMTs and neighbor now need my key for his apartment. We walk him downstairs and EMTs ask me to go check on him later.

Yes, I do care; however, I am NOT medically trained. Remember, I dialed 9-1-1, not administered oxygen.

Bring him plate of food and his still-broken glasses.

Next morning, he looked much better. Will drive him to fix glasses.

Now, I really don’t drink…but today has been tough. Maybe just one.

SuperBowl 2010 'n a Little Revenge

Okay, we had a small Superbowl party. I am not a huge football fan, but I do love those legendary commercials, and of course, the half-time show. Yeah, this could be a fun evening.

We invited a few neighbors. We had food, they had beer: One woman had way too much beer. She was loud and blocked the TV…all night long! She was actually talking so loud and so long, it was impossible to watch the game, or the commercials, and even the half-time show!

It is amazing how annoying one person in a small room could be!

I hatched a plot to get even.

The next morning I was up early. I then had two dogs, both over 110 pounds each: One likes to crawl in the bed and snuggle, the other just takes up what is left of the floor. So, since this woman was technically a family member (albeit very, very distantly, step-family sort-of related), I could take certain liberties.

I know that she would be very hungover and will think that she can sleep in really late.

Ha!

So, after I had my coffee and walked my dogs, I brought them downstairs and quietly let them into her apartment, then tossed in the leashes behind them and left.

Yes, one big dog climbed into her bed, the other bigger dog licked her husband’s face.

They both didn’t get to sleep in.

REVENGE!

Social Pages Blunders

People, puhleese! Must I reiterate the caution that is endlessly repeated in the news and on the Web: Beware what you post on social pages—future employers, creditors and prospective landlords do check! So, if you need to let your freak-flag fly, use a pseudonym! Some good names would be: BeerGoggleDaddy; JoseCuervoFan; or ManWithoutAClue.

Now I don’t look up everyone who applies, just those with red flags. It is understood that if I have a red flag regarding an applicant, or the business manager (who is second-in-command to the building owners) asks me to check, we are merely looking for confirmation of what we already suspect about you: That you are probably a very poor risk.

So along comes this applicant, recommended by another tenant (first flag). He is rude to the business manager (second flag).

Rumor is that he needs a place for himself, his wife, his son and grandson (third flag).

This is a one bedroom apartment.

I recognize the name as possibly that of an old neighbor from many years ago.

I checked Facebook (fourth flag).

I checked MySpace (fifth flag).

Applicant is now out of flags! Family photos of Grandpa on a broken lawn chair, surrounded by young dudes, all smiling, all raising their beers around a campground full of litter, does not thrill me. The dudes are dressed with low-riding baggy pants with their boxer shorts showing, stained t-shirts, sideway baseball caps and are displaying weird hand signs and toothy grins.

I can visualize the family BBQ in the parking lot, the clan hanging out with their coolers and police cruisers nearby. I do not want to catch up and reminisce with this old neighbor; we were never friends to begin with!

This applicant was very persistent; however, business manager and I did not budge. Whew!

Home Depot Hugs

Just another day at Home Depot and my mission was to find fluorescent lights. Simple enough. It just meant a trek all the way from the PROs desk, clear across the store—again—to hunt them down.

There is a gentleman standing there, very tall and quite large. As I am searching for the right size, I got hit with the new problem, “diameter?” Darn, they come in diameters!

Same large gentlemen and I walk over to the chart and together we figure out which one I need. Together we shuffle back to the choices, and the nice gentlemen pulled it down for me.

He then reached down, put his arm around me, hand on my rib cage and pulled me up close for a hug!

My heels left the ground.

My eyes popped out of my head.

All I could do was stammer, “Well, umm, now that’s a moment.” And I kinda stammered and walked away.

Back to the PROs desk, I repeat the story, laughing, “Well, I think I still got it!” Mind you, I am quite far away from being that cute 20-something that lives in my memory.

Gotta love Home Depot, never know what will happen.

Memories of Hurricane Irene – 2011

This is an actual email sent to a cousin in California a day or so after Hurricane Irene. I was a bit stressed!

The Jersey Shore was having more fun that a roomful of toddlers needing Ritalin! That little earthquake Jersy felt earlier, yeah, I know, we are whiners. One Tweet claimed that a 5.8 is what people on the West Coast use to stir their coffee with! Friday and Saturday was a frenzy of hurricane preparedness:

Friday:

• 3 hours in ShopRite (okay we needed the food anyway, but please tell my housemate that we are not the Donner Party and in imminent danger of eating the dog!).
• 2 hours up and down 3 flights of stairs, asking tenants to take in their porch junk, then arguing with a drunk and belligerent laborer to move ladder. This was combined with neighbor blathering about walking all the dogs and asking repeatedly, “Did you see the photos on Facebook?”
  DO I LOOK LIKE I HAVE TIME TO BE ON FACEBOOK!
• Spent 2 hours with handicapped neighbor at clinic because he had 2nd or 3rd degree burn on his knuckles.
• The police have made our lovely neighborhood a prime directive because this past year the neighborhood has had way too much #@$ noise and suspicious activity, so they are patrolling the block.
• Up and down 3 flights of stairs, again, demanding tenants take in their porch junk NOW!
• Back to drunken not-so-handy jerk who refuses to take down the 2-story ladder, he was still gonna work up there: It was now dusk and a light drizzle was falling.
• Run out to get gas and a Dunkin. Gas line ridiculous; settle for Dunkin and pack of smokes.
• Up and down 3 flights of stairs removing porch junk.
• Check on ladder, the laborer is still drinking in the back, ask neighbor to take down the 2-story ladder, drunken laborer argues with me: he is still going to work up there. (It is windy, it is now raining, and he is drunk. Duh!)
• Neighbor agrees to move ladder, however, drunken laborer argues that he needs the ladder to work.

This is where people end up in a clock tower. I am exhausted, big hurricane heading for the Jersey Shore and preparations are not done and I LOST it. I screamed at laborer to move his butt and put away the ladder!

Police are across the street settling dispute over there. They hear me yelling. They come over to talk to me.

Guess who got the lecture? NOT the drunken idiot.

Saturday:

Sullen people now hung over and avoiding me. Sadly, they live in the safest apartment in back and will probably outlive us due to the pre-embalming fluids (kind of like the Rollin' Stones). They are now looking for more money to buy alcohol and cigarettes.

Police loudspeaker, ordering evacuation of our block: We are ½ block away from the ocean.

Very pregnant woman upstairs (we call her Snookie, aka Jersey Shore fame), won't leave. Mother, daughter screaming obscenities in parking lot (no cops, no ticket for them).

The tenants who refuse to leave are: Multiple handicapped tenants, some with dogs, who won’t go to a shelter; two are bedridden with illnesses and are home alone; some are on meds; others are just annoying whiners; and one very pregnant Snookie with her hoodies talking big upstairs, thinking a hurricane, 100 yards from the ocean, is an opportunity to party!

I am a woman on edge at a computer.

Pregnant women left.

Can't wait for storm.

So how’s by you?

PS: We survived the storm, no structural damage, no power outage. We were in a protected pocket. I simply do not want to hear the weather channel for a few days!