Well for one. Becky doesn't like little dogs but somehow I think she lied about that one:
Moco likes to sleep right on top of my pillows and right next to my head at night. Here she is grooming herself on top of my pillows:
And here she is looking all cute and innocent:
And here we have Diesel and Moco chilling out on my king sized bed, hogging it so that there is no room left for me:
I'm not feeling very well right now. I didn't go to work yesterday and one would think that I would have gotten some rest but instead I was bothered by workers and irritated at their inability to be intelligent and respectful to my personal space.
You see, apparently there is a leak and the Cubans downstairs and over from us are flooded every time we use the washer. There is no sort of sign that there is leakage anywhere in our apartment yet we are the guilty ones.
At first they said it wasn't coming from our apartment. There were knocks on the door and discussions about where it should be coming from and at first they said it wasn't us, it was our neighbour. But then yesterday, knock knock knock, can we check your drain? Sure. There is no water there but go ahead. The guys totally annoyed me and were trying to move stuff without knowing how to move stuff and they wouldn't listen to me when I told them not to touch my shit. I mean he was trying to pick up puppy pads with pee on it and move the kitty litter box but only picking up the lid. I told them to stop and that I'd move it since they were obviously incapable of 1) asking if they could move it and 2) incapable of understanding how and where to put stuff.
They brought a hose in and turned on the water and decided to make a mess with water and dirt and kitty litter all over. They watered my christmas decorations which was fun and went in and out of the apartment several times. I asked if they were done yet because I wanted to put the stuff back and they said yes they were done. So I cleaned up the mess and put my stuff back.
Knock knock knock a little later on.
Some different guys want to check the leak. The leak that shows that there is no sign of water coming from our apartment? Fine. Without asking they started to try and move the washer. Ok now I'm getting pissed. I asked them what is it you're trying to do? I told them that the other guys said they were done and that I had just cleaned up and put the stuff back and now you want to move stuff again? No. I think not. They said well we need to check where the leak is coming from (how many times have I heard someone say this?) I had to tell them to go get the hose and where to connect it and how to turn the water on and where to stick the other end so that it could drain. (I could tell them where to REALLY stick the end but you know, I'm so polite I didn't say that)
Then they left and I hear banging downstairs and I figure they are done with me.
No one says anything to me about anything. I know nada about nada.
Then, this morning.
Knock knock knock.
The workers say, "Hi we're here to work!".
This is when my head starts spinning and I start throwing up green vomit all over them.
But Becky steps because she sees that I'm about to lose it. She tells them we are going to work and we know nothing about this and they say ok, and they leave.
They leave. Just like that. Bye bye. Ciao.
Now, is it just me, or is there like a huge chunk of the story missing here? Like how about someone tells us whats going on and what needs to be done. And how about someone contacts the actual owner of the apartment to get permission to rip out someone's wall or floor? How about MY landlord then calls me to ask if it's ok for them to come in and fix shit, and that yes she knows about it and it's ok. How about a little communication and respect? Is that possible? I mean the workers could have simply said, did the contractor speak to you about us doing work here today, we need to do this, is it ok, did they make an appointment with you, yadda yadda yadda?
Yeah I think not.
So I still don't know what the hell is going on. I don't know what it is they want to do. And the best part is they just walk up in there and say "we are here to work".
Guaranteed, they will rip up the wall and or floor and find out that the leak isn't where they just ripped up the wall. I will have a hole in the wall, they will fix it half assed and at the end of the day when I leave that apartment the landlord will say, you have to pay for this shit job.
And no, I'm not staying home on the weekend to move my shit into the living room and listen to them smash holes into the wall only to find that the leak is downstairs.
I dunno. I just don't get it. I don't think things have to be this disorganized and desmadre'd (i made that word up).
All I can say is that I'm glad I will have a break from the madness.
Did you know that when you get your drivers license here, all you have to do is park the car to get it and you don't even have to parallel park it? NO WONDER DRIVING IS SUCH A NIGHTMARE!
Oh Vancouver. Here I come. Treat me well because I need it.
Labels: bullshit, diesel, moco
