Oh, the trials and tribulations of living in an old P.O.C apartement...

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Just great. I noticed a little lump in my goddang carpet in the hall some time ago. And I blissfully ignored it until I had the time and inclination to check what exactly the hell it was. Well, the Holiday season roughly 6 months or so later must have seemed like a convenient time in my mind, 'cause here we are. Yes, I'm that kind of an idiot. I realise that now.

Now, it's an old building, so there's bound to be some kinks somewhere. But just stay with me here. Okay, so I did a little cutting and digging. There's a standard grey floor carpet. Nothing fancy, you know. Underneath that we've some shoddily lain linoleum. Underneath that some even more shoddily lain wood fiber boards. And finally!!! Some ancient parquet floor boards on top of the concrete base.

Can you make a guess as to what kind of malignant growths of Satan had been popping up underneath those parquet boards? Yup. I called the owner of the building and told him to deal with it, while I , pardon my French, was getting ready to get the fuck out of there.

There's a lesson here, people. Lumps under your carpet, no matter how small, look into it. Trust me.

 

Recent development:

Yeah, my mom offered me to lodge temporarily in her basement. That particular trope with the middle-aged gamer living in his mom's basement never gets old, it seems. If I for some reason begin spouting phrases like "command center" in the next couple of days, you'll know I've lost it...

 

It's called a "battle station", you absolute plebe.

Also, be wary of spontaneous neckbeard growth. It's a well-documented phenomenon.

 

Could be worse, could be vaguely B-Movie Horror-ish.

 

Usually, I'd say yes. Unless your definition of sci-fi starts at Event Horizon. Mine tends to start at Star Trek, which is not so horror-ish. Most of the time, anyway.

 

You assumed correctly, Tal. I did a little investigating. One of the owners of the building (new owners, the old one died not so long ago) was fairly certain, that the parquet floor was made when the building was new, after having seen it with his own eyes. The building is from 1939.

Apparently the owners throughout the ages had just piled various thin layers of flooring on top of each other, whenever new people moved in. The new owners called in professionals to fix this mess. Actually, a carpenter and a carpet layer that my brother-in-law knows, so it seems they're not willing to shirk around it, unlike the previous owners. That's something, at least.

Also, they had another apartment in another building only two weeks away from being fixed and ready to be inhabited. The guy living there just cleared out, and he seemed like a very likeable, contributing member of society judging from some of the stories the owner told me. The number of holes he had literally pounded through the parquet floor was minimal. 2 or so. He only kicked in a door in his apartment once and was likewise only picked up by the cops because of some sort of domestic disturbances once in his 6 months of living there. They showed it to me, and it was nice and all, even though the description above seemed less than flattering. They just needed to fix all of the holes and broken doors, and then slap on some coats of paint here and there. At least there were no puddles of dog piss in the corners or anything, like some douche once living in the apartment above my neighbor managed to leave behind a couple of years ago. But I digress.

Anyway, they promised to get it neat and pretty by mid-January-ish. They do have their day jobs and all besides renting out apartments, so I figured I'd at least give'em a fair chance to get it done without stressing out. I can stay on my sister's couch until I'm ready to move in. Forget staying with my mom. I have my pride, you know...

 

Another development. I went to the doctor yesterday. My sisters germridden demonic offspring gave me the flu. I was here for 2 damn days, before their ebola-cooties rubbed off. 2 goddamn days!!!

 

I bet you now wish you had swallowed your pride and spent your time in mom's basement instead, away from the cesspools that are small children. I spend a few short hours around my friends' and coworkers' children every week and almost every time I end up fighting off some god-forsaken infection, despite my best efforts to avoid all contact. I truly cannot comprehend people who, beyond all reason, find human toddlers adorable, rather than see them for the disgusting parasites that they are.

 

Yes, well, I'm off to the doctor's in two hours to find out if I've managed to catch a bout of pneumonia on top of the flu. My lungs! They're flopping all over the dirt!

 

And presto! I did in fact also catch pneumonia on top of the flu. FML...

 

Which is a good reason to be vaccinated vs. the flu next year. No flu, no diseases that can abuse your weakened condition from the flu to ride on top of it.

 

I'm definitely considering it for future occurrences, CD. Apparently I'm special, too. This isn't any ordinary strain of pneumonia-inducing bacteria. So, not the usual penicillin.

On a positive note: If by some odd chance I should have picked up the clap along the way, that's cured as well with this medicine. Gotta look on the bright side, right?

 

Ahh. I'm apparently so fit for duty, that I'm off to work Monday. I'm tired as Hell, which is natural, and my voice has been reduced to a wheezing, but the doctor cleared me. Bloodworks are fine and so on... so I guess I'm okay.