It's a good thing I'm not one of the tenants here with anything growing out on the balcony. Someone's coming to paint the part of it that is visible to the public.
Apparently this is Terribly Important, because it might make all the difference in the universe whether or not someone decides to rent here. I told the manager that I've lived here nearly a decade and never even noticed it. She argued with me, trying to make me believe that everyone does. All I know is that it's grey.
So for what's described as a 2-minute job, some guy is going to traipse through my suite, lean over the railing, paint this patch of cement, and traipse out again. The balcony doors will have to be shut, cutting off the cool breeze, because I'm allergic to paint fumes.
Between Environment Canada warnings about heat (keep the windows open for ventilation) and warnings about air quality (there's a rather large forest fire going on in Jasper National Park, 6000 hectares and counting, so anyone with respiratory issues should stay inside with the windows closed), I have no idea wtf is going on. I finally just shut the window in the room I'm in now because I got tired of killing dozens of insects every night.
Once upon a time I survived on a diet of milk, bananas, cream of wheat, cottage cheese, honey, and salmon. I have no idea what was going on back then. This was in the latter half of the '90s, when I had to bring porridge to the medieval feasts because there wasn't much of the actual feast I could tolerate (thank goodness I was running the troll booth so nobody was near enough to notice that I wasn't eating anything remotely related to the feast).
I suppose it was healthier for me that I had to give up chocolate, chips, and a lot of other stuff I loved. Eventually things did get back to some kind of normal once I figured out the reason why so many things were affecting me in a really bad way. I remember the first time I had anything with sugar in it after over a couple of years without... yikes.
This was back when my home typing business was going on. I realize that the people who gave me chocolates as tips meant well; they thought I would appreciate a nice box of chocolates closer to Christmas instead of a cash tip.
Well, my dad reaped the rewards of all of those except one particular box that I decided to keep for if/when I figured out what was going on that had made me unable to tolerate chocolate. It was very tasty stuff when I was finally able to have it.
Apparently this is Terribly Important, because it might make all the difference in the universe whether or not someone decides to rent here. I told the manager that I've lived here nearly a decade and never even noticed it. She argued with me, trying to make me believe that everyone does. All I know is that it's grey.
So for what's described as a 2-minute job, some guy is going to traipse through my suite, lean over the railing, paint this patch of cement, and traipse out again. The balcony doors will have to be shut, cutting off the cool breeze, because I'm allergic to paint fumes.
Between Environment Canada warnings about heat (keep the windows open for ventilation) and warnings about air quality (there's a rather large forest fire going on in Jasper National Park, 6000 hectares and counting, so anyone with respiratory issues should stay inside with the windows closed), I have no idea wtf is going on. I finally just shut the window in the room I'm in now because I got tired of killing dozens of insects every night.
Once upon a time I survived on a diet of milk, bananas, cream of wheat, cottage cheese, honey, and salmon. I have no idea what was going on back then. This was in the latter half of the '90s, when I had to bring porridge to the medieval feasts because there wasn't much of the actual feast I could tolerate (thank goodness I was running the troll booth so nobody was near enough to notice that I wasn't eating anything remotely related to the feast).
I suppose it was healthier for me that I had to give up chocolate, chips, and a lot of other stuff I loved. Eventually things did get back to some kind of normal once I figured out the reason why so many things were affecting me in a really bad way. I remember the first time I had anything with sugar in it after over a couple of years without... yikes.
This was back when my home typing business was going on. I realize that the people who gave me chocolates as tips meant well; they thought I would appreciate a nice box of chocolates closer to Christmas instead of a cash tip.
Well, my dad reaped the rewards of all of those except one particular box that I decided to keep for if/when I figured out what was going on that had made me unable to tolerate chocolate. It was very tasty stuff when I was finally able to have it.
.
. Speed dating is nice though, I recommend.
