Straight Outta Baltimore

I thought it was my imagination when, shortly after 4:00 Thursday, a jolt woke me from a nap.

When I later saw the Monthly Activity Calendar posted to the door, I assumed it was the cute maintenance supervisor running up the stairs posting calendars, but later learned we did indeed have a minor quake -- 3.1 ENE (59 degrees) of Muscoy.

Nothing of note on the calendar, except Arts & Crafts on the 17^th and another Residents/Management Meeting on the 22^nd.

Depending on who is in attendance by way of residents and management personnel, and how much Nurse Ratched plans to disclose, that meeting has the potential to be quite interesting.

Aware that I walk around the complex, a resident told me -- earlier this week, to “Mija be careful walking around” because she’d been accosted by the mentally challenged son of another resident.

The resident telling me to be careful is the woman whose income was caring for her mother, and who managed to remain a resident when family dissension resulted in her mom being removed from her care, taken first to the resident’s sister’s home, then to a care facility where the mom later passed away. This resident is also the little rule breaker who goes dumpster diving for cans and plastic.

And I get a kick out of her always referring to me as “Mija” -- Spanish for daughter, when I’m at least 10/15 years older.

At any rate, she said it was about 6:00 in the afternoon, she was dumpster diving and “A Persian guy with a little mustache, little goatee, usually wearing a red cap” approached … grabbed her by her arms and shook her asking, “What do you have?” then proceeded to go through her cart.

Of course, she called the police. They did arrive but, though touching/shaking/ransacking was involved, there was not an arrest.

A few days later, word filtered down that a wheel-chair bound resident had been shoved out of the way on the walkway by someone living here.

I’m interested in knowing if Nurse Ratched is going to gloss over these two incidents, as though they never happened, or tell us of the incidents and advise we be careful or advise what if anything is being done about the mentally challenged guy and the old lady shover.

I’m also interested in knowing when and if Nurse Ratched is ever going to address the rumor the complex is being sold – an occurrence which might make all the difference to the residents I know who are planning to look elsewhere because she is here.

And I am convinced it is a fact, not a rumor because, as I was returning from Starbucks just before 11:00 this morning, I saw a guy taking photos of the building. Super Sleuth that I am, I made note of the logo on his jacket, googled it and up came an organization based in Baltimore, MD, which specializes in senior living facilities.

Currently, the organization has senior communities in Connecticut, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, Virginia and I’m assuming are looking to branch into this area.

After researching some of its facilities, I find they have a good reputation and might bring this complex back to what it was before Nurse Ratched darkened our doorstep.

If they do purchase the property, I hope they’re astute enough to get a termite inspection and don’t fall for Nurse Ratched’s pretense of friendliness, professionalism and make the mistake of keeping her on as complex manager.

71 Days Later

Yes, my friends. What you see above is a pest control guy, preparing to treat my unit at last for termites.

A little late … correction, waaay too late insofar as my comfort and convenience is concerned but, as the pest control guy said, "One way or another, it was going to have to eventually be done."

This episode coming to a close hopefully brings an end to any and all further contact with Nurse Ratched for the duration.

My focus now will be praying for Nurse Ratched, because I feel she needs someone to pray her awake, and otherwise doing what I have to do for myself.

Those mailers did indeed turn into a costly gift to the interested party in Washington, so costly that I began to rethink the plan of donating, or giving away to residents, the many CDs and DVDs I want to be rid of.

THAT was a mistake I made when I moved into this complex … thinking the technology had fast forwarded to where my old VCR Tapes -- which were taking up too much space, were of no use or value to anyone, I tossed them in the trash; only to find out later that old VCR Tapes were in high demand, when we had a bazaar that people came in from the outside looking for things to be resold at swap meets.

We haven’t been allowed to have a bazaar, and/or any of the other multitude of activities we once enjoyed, since new management took over the place but, on the off-chance my next senior complex does, the tapes are headed to storage containers.

None of the books made it to Goodwill, as the local library was happy to take them all. I guess donating books to libraries is an everyday normal thing, because they offered me a donation slip to help with taxes. I declined, but now I know what to do with the two containers of cookbooks buried in the patio storage area.

I can’t get to the containers because they’re way in the back, underneath Christmas decorations. Thus will have to wait until movers come in and clear everything in the way out OR when I decorate the patio, Day after Thanksgiving, for Christmas … whichever comes first.

Say What?

Spent the holiday weekend focusing on downsizing non-essentials … letting go of books and spiritual study materials I’ve outgrown and packing up glassware and knickknacks, so I’d be marginally ready for movers when the call comes on that wait list unit. I even de-cluttered the closet. Clothing I’m not ready to let go of, but which has not been worn in four/five years or more, went into storage containers. If an event comes up and I need an item, I can always pull it out, take it to the cleaners and be good to go.

As I look around, I still have so much stuff. Stuff that I don’t need, don’t use but, for one reason or another, can’t bring myself to part with.

This goal of living with less, moving with less isn’t easy.

I’m gonna need a lot more storage containers for now and make some tougher choices when it’s moving time.

The plan was to take the books, now in the trunk of the car, to the local Library today, let them have first pick and, what they had no interest in, take to Goodwill. Today’s plan was also to stop by UPS and ship spiritual study materials I’d outgrown, but held onto over the years, to an interested party in Washington.

Neither of those plans came to fruition, as I was so wiped out from all I’d accomplished over the weekend that I never left the unit. Instead, I rested and slept most of the day away.

I did have a short burst of energy around 9:30, when a call came in that another 2 bedroom 1-1/2 baths unit had become available. The call was from the leasing agent at the complex which originally had a 5-year wait list, had fulfilled the list, and was taking residents first-come-first serve. When I’d toured the property, they only had the one unit available and an old guy and his wife took it quick, fast, in a hurry. I did not request my name be added to the new wait list, did not leave a deposit cementing my name to the list, yet I got the call.

Interesting.

At any rate, even though I’d liked the complex, but not the drab unit, I would have gotten off the couch and headed over to see if the available unit was more cheery than the one I’d originally seen; however, after talking with the leasing agent I learned the complex had income restrictions and I’m over.

A little disappointed was I, because it's a nice complex, a nice area, but took it as a sign it wasn’t meant to be.

Along about 6:00 in the evening, I logged onto the computer, checked email and lo and behold there was a message, earlier in the day, from Nurse Ratched.

"Pest Control is scheduled for tomorrow morning to treat the walls where the termites were swarming so they do not come back. Please accept this as your '24 hour to enter'. After the treatment, for your safety, you would have to leave the apartment for 3 or 4 hours. When you come back to your apartment you can open the windows and sliding door to vent the area." 

Say What?!

After stringing me along for so long, I think she really means it this time, but why now?

What’s changed?

I think I know …

When I went to view that other property, the leasing agent asked, “Have you been here before?”

“No. I just learned this place was here.”

Talking with her as we toured, I learned she recognized me because she’d been an Assistant Manager at this complex … one of those who’d escaped Nurse Ratched.

It’s very possible that’s why she called me so quickly, even though I didn’t ask to be called, and it’s very possible word of my visit and intent filtered down to Nurse Ratched.

It can't be coincidence that, after nothing further from Nurse Ratched in weeks, on the day I get called re an availability, Nurse Ratched decides to do her job.

At any rate, having to be away three/four hours tomorrow will give me time to drop off the books and ship the study materials.

It's going to cost a small fortune to ship these packages but inasmuch as some of the material is out-of-print, and from as far back as the 60's 70's 80's 90's, it would have been criminal not to pass on to other seekers of truth.

Will the fact Nurse Ratched has finally gotten around to doing her job insofar as termite control make a difference to me?

Yes, no, maybe and probably not.

I'm less interested now in that short wait-list compound in the middle of nowhere, though I'll still tour the unit once called. However, I will continue to pack non-essentials and actively look into other senior communities.

Glass Beaded Mason Jars

This is what we created in today’s Arts and Crafts.

With my focus on downsizing non-essentials … wanting to learn to live with less … for sure relocate with less, I had no plans to attend this morning’s Community Room activity.

However, Apache was so pleased with the needlepoint I gifted him that he asked me to come down and sign it. So down I went and signed on the cardboard backing.

The class project looked so interesting, that I stuck around.

We started with a mason jar, bag of glass beads and crazy glue.

Turning the jar upside down and starting at the neck, we began gluing beads.

(Upside down because the downward weight of the beads helps to hold other beads in place as they dry).

That’s all there was to it; after which, we were given a little votive to use the jar as a candle holder.

Some of the ladies got really creative.

While we were creating, one of the ladies -- sitting facing the window, yelled out, “That car about knocked the tree down!”

We turned, looked and sure enough the back end of a car was halfway into the flower garden and up against the tree in the center of the parking area -- a tree which is located so far away from parking spots that one would have to go to a lot of trouble to back into it.

The person got out of the car to check the damage. Lo and behold, it was the woman The Baker and I had assisted a few weeks ago who could not remember where she lived ... the woman who had a cell phone but did not know how to use it, did not know where her car was parked but knew it was green.

She was so befuddled during that episode that, upon hearing she had a car, The Baker had exclaimed, “They let this woman drive!”

Once out of the car, checking the damage to her bumper, she threw her hands up in the air and looked even more befuddled this time.

People went out to help but the woman was so frantic and confused as to be unreachable. I watched as she got back into the car, drove up to and behind a car entering the gate and followed that car in ... following behind so closely that I thought she was going to hit that car as well.

If she thinks that's the end of it, it's not.

Nurse Ratched was away at lunch, but the Gardner saw the happening, and soon thereafter the Cute Maintenance Supervisor appeared, looked at the tree, shook his head and started laughing. So Nurse Ratched will be told and, by checking the front entrance video tape, can track the resident down.

Inasmuch as the tree appears to lean now, there will be consequences ... possibly money damages for the flowers and charges if the tree has to be roped in place to heal.

From the resident's actions of hitting the tree, then following a car so closely into the gate, we deduced she did not know how to use her card to open the gate, had been driving around the parking area trying to figure out what to do, and managed to back over the red border, into the flower bed, all the way up against the tree.

I'm sorry, but that woman should not be driving. Her husband needs to take away her keys and her car before she wrecks someone else's car or harms a human.

Of All the Gin Joints

I thought my imagination was running away with me when, at 10:00 o’clock last night, after just watching a spooky episode of Wayward Pines, I heard noises like low rolling thunder. Then I heard what sounded like the door to the downstairs apartment opening, and later, more rolling thunder.

Turning off the lights so I could see yet not be seen, I peeked out the blinds and saw the rolling thunder was a cart full of boxes being rolled up the walkway by some guy and into the unit beneath me.

Someone was moving in.

That Bogart quote from Casablanca came to mine … “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine”.

Of all the vacancies, why the one beneath me – the unit vacant the shortest length of time? Especially since that particular unit had been rushed to ready.

I smelled paint day before yesterday, and it was just earlier in the day yesterday when the cleaning ladies showed up. I never saw new carpet come in, I didn’t see carpet cleaners come in, and the cleaning ladies had no carpet cleaning machine with them. So little was done and the rush on this particular unit why?

With no one beneath me, I’d barely become accustomed to being able to exercise indoors.
The compound I’m on the wait list for has three floors. Even though I wouldn’t be able to exercise indoors, I’m hoping for a unit on the top. On the other hand, inasmuch as there’s a fitness center, being able to exercise indoors isn’t really an issue.

At any rate, whoever is moving in downstairs, I wish them luck. I’m just hoping they don’t ask me the usual questions, “How long have you lived here? ...What’s it like?”

If one doesn’t mind termites crawling inside, or have other maintenance issues, and can thus avoid management, this isn’t a bad place to live. That was the tipping point for the former downstairs neighbor – some maintenance/management issues. She never did specify, just said, “They won’t do nothing”.

As for "What's it like?", I should just tell them to head to the computer room and read the online reviews which used to be fabulous, but now not so much and are pretty much what I just said in that depends on what you are willing to live with and stay clear of management.

Those reviews have been extremely helpful in my recent search.

In fact, I almost fell into a trap yesterday afternoon … Earlier in the week, I’d filled out an online inquiry about a special one of the better senior communities in the area was advertising, after which I’d read the reviews and promptly lost interest and forgotten I’d even inquired.

I began getting emails encouraging me to take the tour.

Now interested in the wait listed unit, yet still keeping an open mind, I wasn’t interested in taking the tour but couldn’t remember why.

THEN, yesterday afternoon, the leasing agent called ME, encouraging me to come in this morning to tour.

She did such a good job of bum rushing and selling me that I said okay. Then went online to read the reviews and was reminded of why I’d lost interest.

I called back and cancelled saying, “Because of the online reviews, I’m no longer interested in the property.”

Aside from reviews, the key to separating the good, the bad, the ugly seems to be if there’s a wait list, you’re in good hands. If not, be wary.

On tap for today is packing some stuff up and weeding out with the goal towards moving light, starting with books, cds, dvds. I want to get them to the Goodwill, but don’t want to over-lift and injure myself in the process so, over a period of days, I’ll little by little take a few in.

Ducks in a Row Part 2

Last two days touring senior complexes, finding full up … no vacancies … wait listed, reminded me of when a job relocation sent me to a beach city where rents were incredibly high. In order to reduce expenses, I applied at my first 55 and over community the second I turned 55 years of age. Even back then, before all the baby boomers aged into senior housing, there was a wait list.

I asked the leasing agent, “Can you give me an idea of how long the wait until a unit opens up?”

“Oh honey, they die” was her response.

Two weeks later, I got the call a unit had become available.

Everyone looked healthy at the complex I viewed yesterday – the complex 35 miles east of here that had just exhausted a 5 year wait list, so I didn’t bother or think on it any longer – especially after not being too thrilled with the unit I was shown.

The place I visited today, 35 miles west of here, wasn’t exactly what I expected. It looked like the senior community my sister lived in until she passed away – more a compound than a complex … gated, elevators, rows of enclosed units like a hotel, private balconies, fitness center.

The building had great reviews from current residents online, the crime stats came up clean for the area, so I’d gone to take a look at the building itself and get on the “short wait list” if I liked what I saw, so I did not get to view an actual unit as there were none vacant.

It’s located in the middle of nowhere, nice clean streets, okay for walking in the daytime, but I’d not be outside of the compound at night.

Not a biggie, because I don't go outside of this place at night either.

Marketing would be a challenge if I were ever without a car, because of nothing within walking distance by way of a market or shopping center, but there’s a bus line and, push come to shove, there’s always uber and cabs.

I did see a Christian Center across the street, a nice park around the corner, and a Starbucks across the street from that, all of which tells me it’s an okay area even without a market.

Though the compound wasn’t my preference of open spaces, I could see myself living there, so I got on the short wait list.

How short, I asked.

“Very short”.

So now, it’s a waiting game.

I will, however, keep my eyes and ears open to other senior communities and it will come down to which comes through first.