We finally have a true and hopefully permanent apartment manager. He and the maintenance man came as a team. His name is Mark and the maintenance man is Jeremy.
I went down and introduced myself yesterday and regaled him with stories about this place. I asked him if he’d seen the 7 foot tree in the dining room of that one apartment, and he said yes, on their very first day.
Wonder what they thought about that?
If I’d been the owner selling this property, I’d have been deeply ashamed to show a perspective commercial buyer an apartment that had been allowed to have a tree grow horizontally to 7 feet across the dining room floor.
Why didn’t they take care of the problem when it first became apparent? To me that kind of signals the essence of “slum lord.”
I told him this place had not been updated in the nearly 6 years I’ve lived here. It actually hasn’t been aesthetically updated since it was built in the sixties, from what I understand. We did finally get insulation in the attic and two GDFI electrical outlets. One in the kitchen and one in the bathroom.
He says they have plans but he doesn’t know exactly what is in the works. He did say he’s redoing the whole office. It sure needs it. Not a thing has been changed in there since I moved here.. The office managers through the years used the walls to tack things up on, like a lazy person’s idea of a corkboard, so the walls are riddled with holes.
I also asked him if they were doing work inside the apartments, what were they planning to do about the hoarders. Remember originally they said those residents would have to go.
Mark told me that now hoarders are in a protected class, deemed mentally ill. And they can’t discriminate against them. Hm.
Ivy nearly scared me to death yesterday afternoon. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen her in awhile. So I got up and went through the apartment looking for her. Then I retraced my steps calling her name.
Then I began to get a bit frantic. Why doesn’t a cat respond when you call their name for pity’s sake? She was in a little spot behind my chair, though I had looked back there, just not in that particular spot.
She could have made a sound, let it be known she was right there. But cats have their own ways, and humans don’t fit in their needs aside from feeding them, petting them and cleaning their litter box I suppose.
Oh, and taking a yardstick and digging out their toys when they roll under furniture and they can’t retrieve them.
I can’t tell you how many times a day I have to swish my yard stick under furniture because Ivy is sitting next to it looking pitiful wanting me to get her toy for her.
I had a cat named Clyde who I’m fairly certain was part Maine coon. I’ve been told that Maine coons are much like dogs. I could step outside the door, call his name, and hear him scrambling across the neighbors’ roofs to get to me.
I’ll admit I had a silly name for him. I’d yell: “Clydie-poo!”
He would wander around the cul-de-sac of the garden home neighborhood we lived in, but always came home to eat or when I called him. The neighbors liked him to roam their yards because he took care of the rabbits eating their flowers.
You could literally hear him climbing up gates and fences on his way to me. I dearly loved that cat. But in the divorce, the judge said we had to divide up the pets. How do you divide love? So he got Clyde.
He could never have properly taken care of the dogs. They had health issues and my ex was not the type to tend to all their needs. So I brought them with me from Texas to Oklahoma.
Sadly I know Clyde has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I can still recall how he’d paw me on the nose in the middle of the night. He wanted me to stretch out my right arm. Then he’d lay his head on shoulder and suck on my ear lobe.
If you went for a walk, Clyde went for a walk. Just like a dog.
Well, have a nice Thanksgiving Day. I’m enjoying my fireplace and Christmas tree all lit up and plan to stay in out of the rain. I may work on my blog a bit, tidying things up. There’s always work to be done on a blog.
Also wanted to add, I am so very thankful for all of you. I consider you friends and don’t know what I’d do without you. You bring joy to my life.