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!

Home Depot Birthday

This year I celebrated a milestone birthday: I am just not saying which milestone. Circumstances cheated me out of celebrating the last two milestones, however, months earlier I informed my friends that we were going out to dinner, that presents were not required, but loud and noisy cards would be appreciated. I just wanted an evening of laughter and great conversation. I also took a day off from my other job because I wanted a home-spa day: sleeping late, long shower, a manicure and pedicure, simply an ‘I feel pretty day.’

Then I heard those two dreaded words: Home Depot. No!

Do NOT tell me that the handyman does not have his car!

Do NOT tell me that I have to not only drive you there, but that I have to help shop!

It is my birthday. Life is unfair.

Well, it is kind of fun, I do get to park my little hatchback in the PROs (contractors) parking spaces, alongside all the grimy work vans and pickup trucks. It is amazing that doors, paint and people will all fit into my car. (Although, admittedly the car does ride awfully low on some return trips.) I am the only contractor wearing lipstick.

This shopping trip is a big-un. The three of us all have our own separate missions and we know how to work the store, but this trip is turning into several hours of small problems. My ‘spa day’ is slipping away.

Finally, we are at the PROs desk to check out and the staff is doing their best to wrap up this expedition. I was starting to complain: it was my birthday; it was getting late; and I needed to get ready to go out and celebrate.

The fellow helping me turned, smiled, and asked me if it really was my birthday. Answered “Yep,” and even told him my age. Joey then wished me a happy birthday, gave me a hug, and then said that, I was “a breath of fresh air in this store,” noted that most of his customers are grumpy contractors and that I am “A refreshing change of pace.”

Awwwhhhh! Complaining stopped and I just smiled. Who could resist that charm?

BTW, I enjoyed this birthday for nearly two weeks with multiple dinners out with friends. I truly had fun.