DUH!!

The inspection happened around 10:30 this morning, starting with a knock on the door; and it was like roaches when Manager, Head Maintenance Guy and Assistant Maintenance Guy, exiting from White-Haired Neighbors unit, swarmed into mine before WHN closed her door.

She looked amused and waved as the trio split up in my unit, scattered – again like roaches, in different directions.

The inspection seemed way more thorough than previous years, which I questioned "Why so thorough?"

"We’re always thorough", said Head Maintenance Guy.

"No, you’re not", said I.

For one, they flushed the toilet, said the water does not fill back up fast enough.

They never paid attention to things like that before. Even took the lid off this time, checked inside, ordered a part they said needed replacing and didn’t say I’d have to pay for it.

The A/C was on, which meant water was dripping into the tub from that condensation pipe that was an issue a few weeks ago … where Assistant Maintenance Guy was cleaning the pipe in WHN’s unit, refused to do mine while he was at it, as suggested by WHN, said I’d have to put in a work order.

My response to that was "If they don’t care, I don’t care".

All of a sudden, they now care with Head Maintenance Guy telling me water is dripping into the tub from the condensation pipe.

DUH! "Yes, I know".

"The rust from the pipe could damage your tub".

DUH! "Yes, I know. I’ve been cleaning the stain out for 14 years".

Manager said Head Maintenance Guy would return later, run equipment to clean out the pipe, and he did.

I was told there is a new law that smoke detectors have to be 3 inches from the wall. Mine looks to be about 2 inches, so they’re going to have to come back, uninstall the detector, reinstall it an inch further from the wall.

That sounded stupid, so I Googled it – "is there a law that says smoke detectors have to be 3 inches from the wall?".

"No, codes do not require smoke detectors to be 3 inches from the wall; instead, national and state safety standards require ceiling-mounted alarms to be at least 4 inches away from any wall".

It’s called the Distance Rule … "The edge of the smoke alarm must be at least 4 inches (100 mm) away from the wall. Dead air space right in the corner where the wall meets the ceiling can prevent smoke from reaching the sensor", and it's not a new law, as they said, but has been in effect for 40 years. So, why now is management so motivated to follow the law?

Whether 3 or 4 inches, I hope management gets it right when they return to tear up the ceiling.

Manager was looking at my carpets, so I said, "I hope there’s not a new rule that the carpets have to be changed because, though I’ve been here 14 years, they are in good shape and having to deal with moving furniture around or out for new carpet would be a headache".

She said, "Your carpet looks pretty good for 14 years".

"That’s because I shampoo it myself and don’t let people walk all over it with their shoes on, like you guys are doing right now".

"Oh, sorry", she said, and I heard Assistant Maintenance Guy laugh.

She went on to say the new carpet being installed is brown and cheap, wears out quickly and easily.

Whoa! she said that … "cheap".

Since she was being so chatty, I asked, "Did you ever find out who was messing up the bathroom?" … (the Feces Felon).

"No, but they stopped".

"I wonder why", said I.

"Probably because we talked about looking for him".

Makes sense.

At the end of the inspection, I was told the State inspection would be happening in two weeks.

Like I said … they were unusually thorough this time, so I can only assume it has something to do with the upcoming State inspection.

After all was said and done, I knocked on WHN’s door for a debriefing, saying to her, "That wasn’t so bad, was it?".

She said, "They looked in my closet. Did they look in yours?"

I saw Assistant Maintenance Guy go into the bedroom and later found the closet door completely closed, when I never fully close it, so I assume he did, but couldn’t answer WHN’s question at the time because I couldn’t keep up with what the scattered roaches were doing.

WHN said she got dinged on the tea lights she has attached to her patio railing, was told to remove them.

That is a rule … "Do not attach or hang anything from the patio/balcony railings".

I hope WHN being asked to remove her tea lights isn’t going to cause management to notice and make me remove the Halloween lights, when I attach them to the railing next month.

We’ll see, cause I’m definitely decorating the patio the month of Halloween.

I also hope manager told WHN about the State Inspection in two weeks so, if by chance she’s selected, she’ll be cool with it and emotionally prepared for the State, then Federal, then maybe the County.

BTW …… While chatting with her, she mentioned her unit has more wood flooring than carpet.

WHAT? They’re replacing carpet with wood flooring on 2nd Floor units now????

She let me in and showed me hers.

"Cute", I dubbed her unit. There’s that brown carpet in the main seating area, the rest is wood, which she loves.

I’d hate it …… brown wood flooring, brown carpet is depressing, old ladyish, and I wonder if it’s disturbing for those living downstairs from units with wood floors, no carpet to soak up the noise.

Her unit isn’t the elegant showstopper former Next-Door Neighbor’s was but, though darkish with all that brown and blackout curtains to keep the sun out, she has made it look cute, comfortable, but definitely makes me think "grandma".

Looking around my unit, I don’t think anyone would think "grandma". Maybe, "weird, fun, a little scary" but definitely not "a grandma lives here". Actually, a great grandma.

P.S. Hip Hip Hooray! Blogger is letting me post photos today.

Is My Face Red

Yesterday …… realizing I’d not received this month’s Activity Calendar, I headed for the office to pick one up, detouring by the big bin to toss trash.

Seems the car that parks near the dumpster – the one that had its windows smashed all to heck, was not out for repairs after all. Instead, the owner has replaced it/parking a little white car instead.

Not bringing the original vehicle back, now parking a different one, only deepens the mystery of why that particular car was targeted in the first place.

Kinda reminds me of when my girls were around 10-years old and we were living in an apartment in Compton. The next-door neighbor had a dispute with the landlord, decided not to pay rent.

The landlord did not serve her with eviction papers, did not take her to court. Instead, he had his "boys" sneak into the parking area one night, smash ALL the windows to her car out.

She couldn't prove landlord had anything to do with the vandalism, but we all knew their dispute was related and feeling unsafe, next-door neighbor promptly moved out.

Next time I run into the Talker, I’ll have to remember to ask what she knows about this current situation of windows smashed/different car.

So, anyway, there were two things I’d not realized before I stepped out of my unit, headed towards the office yesterday.

The first thing was that the time was 4:30 in the afternoon. The office closed at 4:00. The building was locked up tight.

The second thing I did not realize was that outside was 105◦, with a heat warning in effect.

So there I was, having trekked across the desert to a locked building.

Not wanting my suffering to have been in vain, I retreated, walked back through the gate, hung a right and a right again, headed for the mailroom to check mail.

Nothing but useless ads inside to be tossed; but something told me to stoop down look towards the back of the box.

Inside is a deep black hole built into the wall. I saw nothing.

Then something told me to stick my arm all the way to the back and feel around.

I did and touched something hard. Something that that felt like what a key to one of the parcel lockers would feel like.

After my rant about the mail carriers depositing parcel locker keys in the wrong mailbox, and residents lucking up on packages that don’t belong to them, you have a good idea where this discovery is heading.

My intention here was to post photos. Photos to show you how deep the mailbox is/how far back I had to reach into the cavern by posting a pic of how deep my arm had to reach in, and a photo of the box and its contents (the two sheets of scrapbook paper) that came out of the parcel locker; but Blogger be trippin. Won't let me post photos. And, for a split second this morning, Blogger would not let me reply to comments …… a message popped up that I needed to log into Google. So don't be surprised if my ability to reply to comments doesn't happen again, and for longer than a split second.

All in all, let me just say …… IS MY FACE RED.

The parcel locker key was there all along, pushed all the way to the back AND, it was the only key at the back of that deep dark cavern. Indicating all the other packages I’d miss had truly been misdirected and kept …… Fortunately for me, just not this shipment.

At any rate, I’m back to completing that layout.

Heading back to my unit, I ran into my next-door White-Haired Neighbor, returning from her son’s house, looking as drained from the excessive temp as I was.

She asked if I’d gotten a notice posted to my door about an Inspection this Friday.

I had …… on Tuesday, the day after I’d shampooed the carpets, which meant two or three people (the Maintenance Guys and Manager or Assistant Manager) would be dirtying up my freshly Monday-shampooed carpets on Friday.

Neighbor said she was worried about the inspection because, where she moved from, after 35 years, the manager hated her, retaliated against her because she’d reported him for animal cruelty. He would pull frequent inspections, go through her closets, open her cupboards, told her he can come in when he wants, go through whatever he wanted.

I told her not to worry. That management inspections here are a precursor to when the State and Federal inspectors come in. They just want to make sure the units are clean and everything is in working order, so they won’t get dinged by the agency inspectors.

She said she was on the County and that the County inspected where she lived before only every two years.

That surprised me … that she is on the County and, consequently, must have been placed here through the program and on the program the entire 35 years she lived at the other place.

How does someone get 35+ years of County assistance?

No judgment. I just really want to know as she seems so able-bodied, well put together, and mentally all there.

The conversation ended with my telling her that though management pre-inspects every unit, that the Federal and State inspections are random. Her unit might get inspected, might not, depends on what the agency inspectors want to do.

She said, "But I just moved in".

"Doesn’t matter", said I and told her that I had an agency inspection right after I moved in back in 2012 and did not get another agency inspection until last year. It’s all luck of the draw, and not to worry about Friday because management just wants to make sure the place is relatively clean, no hoarding, and everything works which, in the past has worked in our favor in getting management to make repairs we'd previously requested but they had been dicking around with, because they didn't want us to point the problem out to the agency inspector.

I don't know why she seemed so worried about Friday's inspection, but it makes me curious to one day get a look inside her unit.

I opened the door and showed her mine, which isn't all that fabulous. Maybe one day, she'll show me hers.

Cause I'm a woman! W-O-M-A-N

After driving to Redlands this morning for a dental appointment, after which I stopped by Sprouts in that area to restock on products my sensitive stomach can tolerate; then heading to the medical center in that area for a doctor-requested blood pressure check, after which I stopped by the Flu Clinic and got this year’s flu shot out of the way, I began hearing Peggy Lee singing in my head … her song about us women being able to do it all.

Only thing left to do is a Covid booster, if it looks like that's still a thing and recommended.

In the lobby of the dental office, I grabbed a pic of the GQ-ready outfit an older gentleman was wearing.

Unfortunately, when he turned around, his front side didn’t stand up to his backside; but kudos for the shirt, Jordan pants and Rebook kicks.

The blood pressure reading did not go well. I failed at 146. She did two retakes. Both registered the same 146. Then, she had me stand up for a long long long long time before she took it again. So long that it began to feel like the room as moving, so I leaned on the machine with my left hand, steadied myself on whatever was on my right; but it got me down to 141, which she said was passable …… I snapped a pic of her child’s cute artwork before I left.

I got sick of my long-time primary’s care team overstepping … blocking access, making decisions for my primary who knows what ails me so well that, before her beoch team stepped in, I'd send her a message and she would order the prescription, no sweat.

Last few times I had to contact the doctor’s office – once for a question about whether or not I needed a tetanus shot after I stabbed a finger with a much-used box cutter, and twice when one of those conditions that come out of nowhere to torture us women who constantly wear tight clothing, like the leggings I prefer, flared up; her care team blocked the doctor. Didn’t answer my question about a tetanus shot, told me to make an appointment for an examination; also told me to make an appointment when I was in pain because of the flare up from hell – even acted like I was lying, said "It didn’t show up when you had your blood test two weeks ago", when it wasn’t anything that would show up in a blood test, and which made me question her qualifications/prompted me to file an official complaint.

Not able to wait three months for an appointment, I went to a walk-in clinic down the street, got what I needed, no problem.

THAT complaint worked its way up to my primary. She ordered a prescription that was good for two refills. All I had to do was call the pharmacy next two flare ups.

Since that prescription has run its course, it’s back to the care team telling me to make an appointment, and this last time was it for me because, after that parking fiasco at the main medical center recently, where I had to park at a shopping center and walk, I promised myself I was never going through that again.

So, in addition to getting what I needed at the clinic down the street, I changed doctors to a primary in the Redlands area. I just wish I’d sent a message to my long-time primary to explain the only reason I’m leaving her is because of her care team’s overstepping. I thought, when I processed the change, there would be a place where I could say so but, when I clicked the reason as "other" than what was listed, it went through, no chance to rat the care team out.

So, anyway, before I have reason to schedule with the new primary, or she calls me in, I probably need to get a better BP reading on file.

If the new primary has a care team that sucks as much as my long-time primary’s did, at least there’s parking at her location and, hopefully, a wait time that doesn’t extend into months.

BTW … on the freeway, I spotted a somewhat souped up NatC Car.

Nice try, but it doesn't make it look any better than what it is.

Make it Make Sense

Woke up this morning to this ……

A cool 75◦ with much needed rain.

But, and it’s a big BUT, tomorrow’s forecast is whiplashed back to 90◦, with temps rising to a hot 99◦ by Wednesday.

Make it make sense.

Also, under the topic of make it make sense, I’ve been waiting for two sheets of scrapbook paper I ordered as background, for the Creative Memories album's layout of the 5 or so grass skirt pics taken at the End of Summer event.

On August 25, I'd managed to snag the last two sheets of Reminisce - Hawaiian Palm on Wood.

Waiting patiently for and not finding the package the last few times I checked mail, I yesterday tracked and learned it was shipped August 29, "delivered to a parcel locker at 11:34 am on August 31".

Now, the key word here is "A parcel locker" because whatever mail slot the key to the locker was left in, it wasn’t mine cause I never got it.

Someone was so unscrupulous as to take advantage of the mail carrier’s mistake of placing the locker key in the wrong mail slot – and not the first time, and instead of walking over to me/the named recipient, chose to keep what they found inside … also not the first time.

It’s an epidemic around here, and what gets me is that the scrapbook supplies I’ve lost in the past, and currently, aren’t even items the hijacker can use or sell. So why keep it? Why add even more bad karma to your obviously already miserable existence. Just say you received in error, opened not realizing it wasn't his/hers.

That happened to me when I opened a package, saw a shower curtain I'd never ordered, checked the name on the package, saw it wasn't directed to me, walked it over to the resident with an oops that I get so many packages that I'd assumed it was one of mine without looking at the label.

My brain can’t compute the small mindedness of keeping something that isn't yours.

Unfortunately for me, those were the last two sheets the supplier had in stock; but all may not be loss. I’m not in a hurry to finish the layout, signed up to be notified if/when back in stock, will wait it out.

I’m just glad it was a small order this time, not as big a loss as previous orders.

Lastly, I saw the below on facebook this morning and was🤣.

But is it true …… did he really change the color of his hair? or is this A.I.

I Hope This is Personal

A bearable 86◦ this morning, I headed out to put in walking miles around the complex and saw this ……

I’m not wishing harm on anyone in hoping this is personal. I’m just hoping this doesn’t mean some kind of fresh hell for all of us that park in that area. Not some random someone walking around smashing out car windows, but rather some kind of personal animosity having to do with no one but the resident whose car was vandalized.

It did occur to me that perhaps the vandalism did not happen on our lot, but that the car’s owner was in the wrong place at the wrong time …… that this happened elsewhere. But noooooo, because there was glass on the ground, under and around the area of the window, indicating it happened here.

At any rate, fingers crossed this is a one-time thing for the vandalized car owner and for us.

Yesterday was also a bearable walking day at 89◦, but I opted to get marketing out of the way instead.

Listening to country/western station KFROG, as I drove to the branch of the market in the bad area/surrounded in bars like a prison that has the best produce because of the way the area is zoned, I burst out laughing when I heard radio host Kelli say, "It’s still hot, but Walmart is already selling Christmas decorations".

I’m still waiting for October 1/the First of Halloween but, at this rate, Valentine’s Day merchandise will be on sale before Halloween gets here.

This branch of the market I drove to is preferred, rather than the corner market, not only because produce seems fresher, but also because fun things seem to happen at the other branch. Like the young man telling me his friend said I was pretty, and the 62-year-old that called me chocolate ice cream and proposed marriage. This time it was a not bad looking slightly over middle-aged gentleman pushing his cart towards me, looking to pass on my left, head to produce as I was pushing my car out of that area. Just as he was about to pass, he said, "My God! You are so beautiful, so beautiful".

Believe you me, I was feeling nowhere near beautiful yesterday …… just so old, so tired, and so done that, though he was looking at me when he said it, I wasn’t all that sure he was actually talking about or to me. I even actually turned around as he passed to see if he was addressing someone behind me. There was no one else in the immediate area, so I can only assume the spontaneous utterance was addressed to me …… the Universe giving me the bump I needed to pull myself out of the blue funk I’ve been in off/on for months.

Still not totally convinced that I looked better than I felt, I took a selfie when I got back to the car …… the photo I’m now using as my profile pic.

My eyes …… free of eye makeup because I gave that up long ago, do not look well or happy.

Nevertheless, the bump seems to have worked …… temporarily motivated me up and out, because I pushed through this morning and logged in 1.01 miles, in 32:38 minutes at the snail slow pace of 32:15, 3,292 steps.

It’s a start. Hopefully, I can keep it up as the weather continues to cooperate by cooling down.

In other news, it’s been super quiet around here since last week’s End of Summer event. I’ve not seen nor spoken to any neighbors, so no news on the status of Hell on Wheels, Ankle Annie or the Feces Felon.

Bingo returns this Friday, after a month’s hiatus due to the organizers having to work around office hours and the Baker’s needing a break from whatever has been happening in bingo that upset her.

She had me do a sheet of Bingo Rules that includes the regular "Limit two wins until the ninth (blackout) game", adding "No arguments between players or you will be asked to leave".

That’s telling.

I wonder who was arguing, and what could they have been arguing about. It’s just bingo for God’s sake.

Also, "Keep the noise down so everyone can hear the numbers, please make sure you are listening".

That was especially aggravating when I used to attend bingo, and the main reason I stopped going. People could just not shut up, talked over the caller making it difficult to hear numbers being called AND, because they were talking instead of listening, would often interrupt the game asking "What were those last numbers you called" or "Did you call xyz?".

Lastly, "Lunch or snacks will be served after bingo for our bingo players".

I think this is because residents, not involved in bingo, would lurk around trying to time coming in just as refreshments were being served. You know, like the neighbor who just happens to stop by when dinner is being served.

I think it’s going to be hard to enforce this rule.

If I were the Baker, I’d order meal tickets that say, "Good for one meal", pass those tickets out to residents playing bingo AND, at the end of bingo, serve only those who present valid tickets.

In fact, I’m going to order said tickets, give to the Baker for bingo and other events where residents unceremoniously show up at dinner time.

Everyone Out of the Pool

I had no intentions of heading out in 104° weather for today’s End of Summer event. However, along about 11:00 — the time the event was to have started, not seeing anyone on the walkway heading that way, I became curious, threw on a top, shorts, grass skirt stepped out the door around 11:30 to see if anything was going on.

To say it was hot outside is an understatement. The word for today is ……

Seems everyone got the bitchferno memo, because the pool area was bare.

However, over in the distance, just outside the back door of the Community Room, I could see a covered kiosk where cooking seemed to be happening.

Detouring through the Mail Room to get out of the heat, I headed to the Community Room and found the event going on strong.

Seems, management did have the good sense, after all, to move the event inside.

Lu and Dream Lover were in attendance, sitting on opposite sides of the room, not speaking to each other, Dream Lover having declared to me that he’s learned his lesson about craping where he eats, and dressed for the occasion.

I’d recently seen him on the walkway heading towards Lu’s unit, but evidently his being in that area had nothing to do with her.

There was no update on the Feces Felon — whether he’s been caught or struck again, but I did get info on the woman wearing the ankle bracelet that saves me time and attention, limiting my checking ankles to a specific nationality.

BTW, we need a name for the Woman Wearing the Ankle Bracelet. No moniker is coming to mind, so what say you?

At any rate, turns out she’s not a resident per se but that, recently released from jail — unknown what her crime was, she’s living here with her mother.

Talker tells me the woman is "really rough", got "ugly and super aggressive" with Talker when Talker …… seeing her having a pool party with four other people and no resident with them, gave her a heads up that she’d get in trouble with the office for bringing in that many people and being a non-resident unaccompanied by a resident.

Instead of appreciating the warning, the woman with the ankle monitor became aggressive, argumentative, ended up calling her mom to the scene to back her up, put Talker in her place.

When her mom came over, saw Talker was involved, she told her daughter "Why you arguing with L …… She’s my friend", and made her take her people and get out of the pool.

So, it seems that though Woman with the Ankle Bracelet can't break the rule that a non-resident cannot use the pool without a resident accompanying them, she can wear an angle monitor in the pool without being electrocuted.

On the other hand, the internet tells me, "Most electronic monitoring devices are only water-resistant enough for brief exposures like a quick shower or getting caught in the rain. Full submersion in a swimming pool can damage the device and trigger a false tamper alert".

I don't know how she managed it, but where's there's a will, there's a way.