There is nothing like getting estimates from
contractors to put one in one’s place. In the universe of plumbers,
electricians and handymen, you are but a speck in the tail of an asteroid. This
might explain why so many idiosyncrasies are to be found around my house.
Of course, it may also be that the
previous owners were just too cheap to invest so much as $1.98 in upkeep.
However, having been here going past six
months, I’ve started tackling some of the oddities. Which is to say, I’ve
started getting quotes from electricians. And last week I had a team of them in
to deal with the cockeyed wiring upstairs.
I am grateful to report that the ceiling
light/fans in the back bedrooms are now operated via wall switches in the
respective rooms, instead of both of them being controlled by a switch in the
hall closet. And the hall bathroom fan is now on a switch separate from the
light switch. So I can brush my teeth at night without having to listen to the
bleeding fan.
The electricians were professional, polite and
personable. I had a nice chat when time came to settle up—yes, of course credit
cards okay; you want those miles, right? (Turns out he’d used one of his to buy
an $8600 fishing boat and got something like $250 cash back. So then we chatted
about fishing, and birds.) And then I was ready to move my sleeping arrangements
to one of the back bedrooms, which overlook a bunch of greenery, as opposed to
the master bedroom, which is smack on the cluster parking lot.
It turns out that some of the residents here,
and their friends, are night crawlers; they use the parking lot as a gathering
place, smoking and joking as late as midnight. Then there’s the woman across
the way, who holds hours-long mobile phone conversations starting as early as
2200, but often going past 0230. She invariably puts her mobile phone on
speaker so everyone can hear both sides of the call.
I’ve contacted the cluster president, and the
condo management association, but no one wants to do anything about it. And
repeatedly reminding the Night Crawlers under my window that these are all
bedrooms only scatters them at the moment. The next night, or the next, they’re
back. I don’t know why they don’t have these gatherings in their actual
residences, but it doesn’t seem to occur to any of them that if their
housemates don’t want this crap in their living room, neither do their
neighbors.
Anyhow, on Saturday evening, friends showed up
to move my rather cumbersome mattress and box spring—two guys took less than
five minutes to do it. And that night I had the first night of unstressful
sleep since about April, when the weather warmed up. Window open, just the
crickets and other non-human night critters for a lullabye. And when I woke up, my view was of
the birds at the feeders below me.
So today I’m grateful for competent electricians
and strong friends, and for the expectation of good sleep.
Now—plumbers. I’ll need a plumber next.
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