So last night, I’m peacefully sleeping and minding my own damn business (like ya do) when the heater starts making a horrible, I’m gonna die kind of noise. Now, here at Ye Olde Apartment Complex, we have those cheap-ass motel-style units where you twist the knobs around — one in the living room and one in the back bedroom (which has an extremely white-trash vent from it cut through the wall to the other bedroom — I kid you not). The one in the bedroom has been partially defunct for over a year — it only blows hot for a little while, then switches to cold, so it’s only useful as an air conditioner. The Now-Deceased Landlord told me there was nothing wrong with it, and I couldn’t get drunk enough to communicate with him on his level, so I just gave up — I usually sleep with the A/C on anyway.
But now… now the one in the living room is making a noise. Of course, it runs pretty much constantly, so it may just need a rest… Hopefully that will fix it ’cause I desperately do NOT want to have to talk to Evil-Not-Really-Our-Landlady (she’s still got the note up that says “office closed, go fuck yourselves”). She’s a people person.
On an unrelated note, I have made a very upsetting discovery. After “Jersey Shore” made me want fried pickles, I was horrified to find that all the places around here where I can get such a thing are SEASONAL. That translates into: Not Open Until April. Who authorized that??? Fried pickles know no season! Now the closest place to get some would be the Hofbrauhaus in Newport, KY… like 3 or 4 hours from here. Don’t think I won’t go.