I Didn't Get Blown Up

I didn’t get blown up. That’s the best thing I can say about the past three weeks.

Two days after moving in to my new apartment, I commented on a building bearing the plaque “Dadi’s House.” A neighbor related to me the sad tale of Dadi’s wife, who had smelled a gas leak, called 911, and gotten blown up, along with her child and two cops. The children in the neighborhood fashioned a plaque made of multi-colored tiles to rechristen the widower’s home.

I spent the first two weeks in my new apartment struggling to grind out chapters for the book I’m writing with Dusty. The struggle came not so much from the traditional writer’s block (although that was an element), but rather from the insane distractions coming from my mess of a new home. Renovations were supposed to be completed one month before we moved in, but here we are, no end in sight. A short list of what’s been wrong with the place:

• Recently installed mailbox sucks
• Front door doesn’t lock properly
• Office door doesn’t fit the frame (drags on the floor, gap at the top – not quite the sound booth I was aiming for)
• Bathroom door creaks on its hinges
• Bedroom door handle falls off
• Light fixtures not affixed
• Mice
• Insects
• Paint all over the floors
• Fuse box painted shut
• Thermostat painted over
• Poorly installed kitchen cabinets
• Poorly installed microwave
• No hot water upstairs
• Hot water in the toilet downstairs (this melts the wax seal at the base of the toilet, causing water to leak all over the bathroom)
• Kitchen sink won’t drain, except into the dishwasher, which leaks all over kitchen floor
• Leaky water heaters with broken valves (covered in paint)
• Broken water boiler valve sealed by a sock wedged in with a screwdriver
• Broken water boiler in the basement, which was left empty of water, but with the gas and electricity on (this could have blown up at any minute, but it’s “fixed” now)

I called my former Taekwon-Do student, who’s a master plumber, so the water issues are getting straightened out. And I didn’t fall down the half-installed stairs (even when I was told they were fully installed). And I didn’t really need to go out last night, so who cares that the stairs got lacquered while I was upstairs eating dinner. Who cares that I couldn’t come home the other night because the stairs had been painted?

I didn’t get blown up, so I guess I’m running pretty good.