P.S.

I'm sure things will continue to come up that will exasperate and amuse me during my stay here for the remainder of the lease. However, I only hope that they won't be so numerous that I will be so busy documenting them I won't have time to retrospectively record some of those early memories during the days that started it all.

So hopefully more posts soon, no chronological order of any sort promised.

Day One

Day one was actually many months ago. When we first moved into our new apartment (new meaning new to us, definitely not "new" in the denotative meaning of the word), the instant number of mishaps, inconveniences, and catastrophes provided a constant source of frustration... and amusement. As more and more problems arose we started to joke that this crazy living situation would be an excellent topic for a blog. Sadly we never got around to starting one, but that didn't mean new subject matter in any way ceased to appear. So finally, about four and a half months after what should have been the beginning, I will sit down to type this first entry. And what prompted this initiation, you might ask? Well.

Last night around 10pm I was recently returned from a weekend away from the apartment. After unpacking everything (including the cats) I had decided to make iced tea. Summer in DC without any AC equals a great need for cool beverages and lots of wind power. So yes there were a number of fans going at the time. But you'd think, wouldn't you?, that the electricity in a fairly good sized apartment building could handle running two overhead fans, three free standing fans, one table lamp, and a microwave all at the same time? Apparently not. It was the microwave that pushed it all over the brink. And as the water for the tea started to boil in its glass mason jar, the microwave let out a shuddering groan and I found myself squinting across the darkened room into the kitchen. The gurgling fridge fell strangely quiet and the fans slowly swiveled to a standstill (except--thank goodness!--the one plugged into the one outlet that still worked). That one outlet saved us from boiling in our beds at night, allowing us to hook up a string of surge protectors to keep the fans running. It also saved the food in the fridge through the reach of a tightly stretched extension cord (in 90 degree heat nothing would have looked (or tasted... or smelled) very pretty 18 hours later).

The kicker to the whole power outage story is that there weren't even any computers plugged in at the time (usually there are multiple laptops). And the tv, though admittedly plugged in, wasn't on. In fact, literally the only thing I left out of the above list of electrical demands was a small digital alarm clock. I foresee that the motto of this blog will often sound something like this: "Don't elect to live in a circa 1920s apartment; it won't be vintage, it won't be historic, it will just be old (and easily broken)."

To top it all off (in case you think I'm being unfair to the poor, elderly museum-of-an-apartment-building) it was impossible to contact the "Emergency" maintenance number for the after hours staff because the mailbox was full. Yeah that's right, full. ("So sorry, we're all full up on emergencies today, we're afraid yours will have to wait until tomorrow.) Luckily it was something that could wait until the next day, as opposed to say a small fire or a gas leak, and I can't say how relieved I was to get back to my apartment the next day to discover the wonders of electricity at work! Though as an endnote, while the power had come back, I hadn't received any responses from the apartment manager to my email and written message dropped off at 7am (since I couldn't call them) and didn't get anything back until I emailed again saying: "the power's back? I guess?" (not my exact words) to which I received "We fixed it!" (their exact words.) Not quite the best (in a deep, deep meaning of the word) email I've gotten from them, (it will be hard to beat "Actually I found that gas you don't have to worry about that." Actual punctuation and everything. Yep.), but still makes you feel a little sour. So far I have resisted replying again with a big sarcastic "Thanks."

Would I choose to live in this Goushi of a place again? Hell no, but the ride has certainly been entertaining.

Four months down.... eight more to go.