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Words about winter pull you inside the cold
I feel like the intellectual content of this journal has crashed. On the other hand, I feel like my intellectual content has crashed: the apartment situation is taking up so much of my time. I woke this morning around seven-thirty when I couldn't sleep through the snow anymore, left a message for Somerville's Inspectional Services around nine o'clock and didn't really fall back asleep afterward, got out of bed around eleven-thirty, ate rice cakes, worked for Nokia, called the city back around three in the afternoon and spoke to an actual person who was horrified when I described the issues with our windows and promised a building inspector would call me tomorrow morning. (The same building inspector, in fact, who left a stop-work order on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
derspatchel and ratatosk's front door last fall when it turned out the incredibly disruptive and shoddy construction on their second-floor porch had been undertaken without a permit. I do not know if he will remember me, but I recognized the name at once—I was the person he spoke to, because I was going up the front steps just as he was getting out of his car to identify himself to the household and it was just as easy for him to hand me his card.) If I do not hear from him by a reasonable hour, I'll call again: we need this situation resolved, or at least we need to start resolving it. It's still snowing out there. I am pretty much living in the common room because my bedroom is too cold to occupy outside of the bed with five and a half blankets on it. It's got nice couches, but that's not the point. We can't unpack because we don't know if we're staying or house-hunting. My books are all still in their boxes, my clothes in a heap of bags. And I like where I am right now, geographically: I like walking into Ball Square, I like being twenty-five minutes from Davis; I like the variety of buses available to me if it's late or the weather is bad and I like that gaudior already knows how to drive here. I have donuts I can walk to easily, which hasn't been true for me since the bakery whose name I remember as Do-Si-Donuts (I am torn between hoping I've gotten that wrong and hoping that really was it) closed in Arlington Heights. There is a used book store at similar distance—a small one, but their science fiction section is great and they have already furnished one book with uncanny timing. I don't want to move again, but I don't want to stay somewhere I really can't live, either. I made grilled cheese with ham for dinner, because it is comfort food. If this week goes on the way it began, Friday will necessitate noodles and cheese.
derspatchel and ratatosk's front door last fall when it turned out the incredibly disruptive and shoddy construction on their second-floor porch had been undertaken without a permit. I do not know if he will remember me, but I recognized the name at once—I was the person he spoke to, because I was going up the front steps just as he was getting out of his car to identify himself to the household and it was just as easy for him to hand me his card.) If I do not hear from him by a reasonable hour, I'll call again: we need this situation resolved, or at least we need to start resolving it. It's still snowing out there. I am pretty much living in the common room because my bedroom is too cold to occupy outside of the bed with five and a half blankets on it. It's got nice couches, but that's not the point. We can't unpack because we don't know if we're staying or house-hunting. My books are all still in their boxes, my clothes in a heap of bags. And I like where I am right now, geographically: I like walking into Ball Square, I like being twenty-five minutes from Davis; I like the variety of buses available to me if it's late or the weather is bad and I like that gaudior already knows how to drive here. I have donuts I can walk to easily, which hasn't been true for me since the bakery whose name I remember as Do-Si-Donuts (I am torn between hoping I've gotten that wrong and hoping that really was it) closed in Arlington Heights. There is a used book store at similar distance—a small one, but their science fiction section is great and they have already furnished one book with uncanny timing. I don't want to move again, but I don't want to stay somewhere I really can't live, either. I made grilled cheese with ham for dinner, because it is comfort food. If this week goes on the way it began, Friday will necessitate noodles and cheese.