Tag: Milton

Crankypantsing

More Old Photos

Shelly

Mr. Upstairs, bless his heart, woke me up at 7:00 this morning–the one day I usually sleep in, mind you–by blasting his television. Or maybe it was talk radio. I don’t know, and I don’t care. It was loud and obnoxious, and that’s all that matters to me. So, since I was reluctantly awake, I decided to go through some of the junk I sorted yesterday. I ended up with a stack of ephemera that needed to be scanned. I’m not done yet, but I made a dent in the pile. They mostly consisted of postcards from France and the Caribbean–perfect for a January day, except it’s sunny and warm on account of NO WINTER IN INDIANA! There were also some postcards of race horses and a set of what I think are 1880-1890 sepia tone photos of Germany, mostly of castles and villages along the Rhine.

St. Goar and Ruins of Castle Katz
St. Goar and Ruins of Castle Katz, circa 1880-1895
Verso: inscribed in pencil, “St. Goar and the Cat 3383

Napoleon had the castle demolished in 1806, and it was restored between 1896 and 1899. Therefore, this photo–which clearly shows the castle in its ruined state–had to have been taken prior to the restoration.

The rest of the postcards and photos can be seen here.

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Fog

Shelly

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This is a pretty good approximation of how my brain feels this morning. Mr. Upstairs (Milton) has spent the last two nights rearranging furniture, so I haven’t been getting much sleep. How much furniture can one fit into a 700sq ft apartment?! And why can’t it be (re)arranged at a reasonable hour?

I still can’t figure out when Mr. Upstairs sleeps or when he goes to work, assuming he actually does either of those things. Whenever I pass him in the hallway or parking lot, he pretends I don’t exist. Even when I say hello, he stares straight ahead and ignores me. M’kaythen!

In other neighbor news, the Bumpass family have moved into the apartment I share a wall with. I was a little apprehensive at first, but they’re surprisingly quiet. I had to laugh when I saw them moving in. Their patio is cram-packed with filthy, broken-down old furniture, and they’ve erected a Monument to Tackiness that leaves me equal parts horrified and impressed. I’ll try to get a picture of it, but for the time being, you’ll have to make do with the knowledge that it contains a bunch of glass-ornamental-garden-tchotchkes-on-sticks, US flags, and porcelain bunny planters.

Also, they’ve got the requisite Bumpass Hound, in the form of a cuter-than-hell Catahoula Leopard Dog puppy. She seems pretty well behaved, though when she gets barking, it tends to go on and on and on. Miss Brown does not approve. Whenever Miss Catahoula starts roo-roo-rooing, Harriet gets agitated and starts pacing and hrumfing.

Crankypantsing

Operation Shelving

Shelly

I repeat: We have achieved shelving!

I finally had time and sufficient hardware to slap together three sets of bookshelves on Sunday. Between building the shelves and unpacking and sorting books, Operation Shelving took me damned near 12 hours to finish. Yes, 12 hours. Trying to force screws through rock-hard cedar is no picnic. Please, don’t try this at home unless you have a drill. Otherwise, your hands may turn to hamburger. Actually, the hamburger is partially due to the fact that some dog who shall remain nameless chewed the hell out of the handles of a couple of my screwdrivers. About halfway through Operation Shelving, it occurred to me that maybe I should wrap the chewed bits with duct tape, but by then the hamburger was made.

But, it’s done, done, done. Hallelujah! I still have a couple of boxes of art books to unpack, but those will go in the studio, so I’m not worrying about them just now. Besides, the bookcase they go in needs a coat of paint before I can put anything in it. I should have taken care of that a couple of weekends ago, when it was 75F and sunny outside. Now, I’m going to have to paint it indoors, which will probably end in tears when the inevitable paint-on-carpet tragedy occurs.

In any event, this means that I can finally focus on getting the studio unpacked. I’m not sure yet what Ms. Lea’s weekend packing and moving plans are, but I suspect I’ll have at least one day to work on the studio, which makes me happy.

And, speaking of things that make me happy, I have found perhaps the world’s most perfect carpet stain remover. I may have mentioned it before, but it bears repeating: Woolite Oxy Deep. It’s damned good stuff. It even removed dried blood stains from the carpet at the old place [1]. I had tried just about everything I could think of and had just about given up on finding something that would work. This stuff removed it quickly and with a minimum of elbow grease.

And now for the crankypantsing. I was busy all weekend and didn’t get much sleep, so I was looking forward to sleeping in on Monday and spending pretty much the whole damned day sitting on my ass. The only problem was, I didn’t account for Milton and His Spectacularly Loud Television. Holy crap! I woke up at 7am to the morning news, blaring away from upstairs. That went on pretty much all day, then through the night, he plunked on his bass guitar. He must be learning to play, because when I first moved in, he was working on simple scales. Now, he’s graduated to adding halftone decreases to the up progression and halftone increases to the down progression. Only, he fucks up about every third note. This went on all freaking night. The man must not ever sleep!

Then, when I got home yesterday, I noticed that his television was on, but for once, it was at a sane volume. Hmmm. That’s the first time he hasn’t had it on full-blast since I moved in in late September. I wonder if someone complained? The folks who share a wall with him can’t be any more thrilled than I am with the noise.

Alas, the bass playing went on last night as scheduled, from about midnight until I left this morning at 5:45. Which really makes the mind boggle, when you think about it. That’s six solid hours spent doing nothing but playing scales–and badly, at that. It makes no sense from the standpoint of learning to play an instrument, which makes me wonder if it’s an OCD sort of thing, wherein he just cannot put the instrument down until he completes the given scale perfectly.

I dunno. I do wish he’d turn the damned amplifier off, though. What kind of jackass thinks it’s reasonable to play electric bass all night in an apartment complex? It is sure to make the Baby Jeebus weep.

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[1] The body was buried in the front yard. And, no, I’m not kidding.

Photography

Laundry

Shelly

Since I was awakened at an obscene-to-me hour this morning, I thought I’d do some laundry. I’d been taking it to the old place, and doing a couple of loads while I packed, cleaned, etc. Now that I’m done, done, done (hallelujah!) with all that, I no longer have laundry privileges.

So, I called the office bright and early to ask where the laundry facilities were located and was told there were machines in the basement next door to me. Excellent! I’ll have to go outside to get to the laundry room, but I won’t have to drive over to the maintained building/office/pool house, as I’d feared.

I ran to the bank to get quarters, then came home and sorted my laundry and took a load over to wash. I’m happy to report that there are two washers and two dryers, and that it all looks clean and well maintained.

Anyway, as I was screwing around, putting stuff in the machine, I smelled something burning, like a match that had just been put out. I looked around, and there was Milton, walking through the far doorway with two large pillar candles and a lighter in his hands. M’kaythen! After he went back upstairs, and I’d heard the front door close, I looked around in the wayback room he’d been in. There were a bunch of numbered doors, corresponding to the apartment numbers for that half of the building. Oh, hey! We have storage rooms!

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I checked out my storage room, and it’s about 8′ x 8′. Not bad. Next time I’m in Owen County, I can pick up the mower I left at Ms. Lea’s house. I also have a bunch of junk–frames and wood and old paintings–that I can stash down there.

Now, what I want to know is, what on earth was Milton was doing, hanging out down there and burning candles in his storage room. Was he meditating in his oubliette?

Crankypantsing, Photography

Milton

Shelly

Milton

No, not the blind zealot who wrote Paradise Lost. I’m talking about the guy who had an unhealthy relationship with his red Swingline stapler. Milton is my new upstairs neighbor. He’s also known as Ravin’ Disco Aerobics Man and TeeVee Man. For the first two weeks, I heard him but never saw him. Finally, a couple of nights ago, I ran into him in the entryway to my building. I’m sure Milton is a wonderful person, but I do wish he would throttle down on the ravin’ step aerobics at 3am.

Anyway… I’m not completely moved yet. I had been planning on being out by the first of the month, but I’ve still got a couple of carloads of junk and a whole lotta cleaning to do at the old place. C’est la vie, eh? I also haven’t even begun unpacking. I have boxes and piles and stacks and heaps of crap everywhere, and no place to put any of it, because most of it involves books or other assorted things that go on shelves, and I have not yet solved my shelving dilemma. So the new place looks kinda like the old place, only with more furniture.

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Miss Brown is settling in nicely, as is Pandora. There are lots of groundhogs, bunnies, birds, and one damned cheeky chipmunk to watch. The sliding window is large, and provides hours of entertainment for the girls.

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The night we moved in, there was a nasty storm that passed through. It was actually quite enjoyable to sit inside the big window and watch the clouds and lightning.

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Morning mist rising.

This is the field just off the patio. It’s large and lined with trees on three sides, so while it’s big and open, it’s also sort of secluded. The complex I’m in is also in a good neighborhood for dog walking.

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Bunny

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Grass Spider

Some of the local “wildlife.” There are bunnies galore, living under the ginormous, sprawling thicket in the back field. There is also a Grass Spider (a variety of funnel weaver) living in my kitchen window. Kitchen windows just wouldn’t be the same without spiders living in them, I guess. He’s kind of big and hairy and juicy, but Grass Spiders are docile and eat bugs, so I’m happy to have him. They’re supposed to be shy, but this guy spends a lot of time out of his hidey hole and doesn’t seem at all bothered when I open the blinds and watch him. It’s kind of like having a pet tarantula in a terrarium.

That’s pretty much it, I think. Hopefully I’ll get the studio unpacked sooner, rather than later, so I can get to work on some actual arting. In the meantime, I finally got the DSL hooked up (praise be!) and the cable has been installed. The cable is probably sucking more of my time than it should, considering that I really ought to be at least pretending to be productive. Those home improvement shows are mesmerizing, though, and with cable, they’re on pretty much round the clock.