manual labour sucks ass

construction worker ala village peopleAnd not, you know, in any of the GOOD ways!

At long last it is finally Hard Rubbish Day here at the "house of yani"... well, it will be tomorrow anyway...

Which means, at LOOOONG last I finally get to be rid of all the trash my fellow neighbours have been dumping in the garden for the last six months (or however the hell long it's been, but I think they missed the last one), and I wasn't about to leave it to either chance nor the kind and generous nature of my landlord to make sure it got done, so I damn well did it myself!

Not all of it, mind you, since I'm not about to bust my back or give myself a hernia moving the two couches, three mattresses, the ugly easy chair and a futon frame that are all still in the backyard... but everything else, the stuff that I can see and that does annoy me (well, you know, other than the actual neighbours), that's all pretty much gone. Or it's out on the front nature strip anyway.

Yes, I could have just called my landlord, but it probably wouldn't have gotten done anyway... and at least this way, I know it's been done. And it actually felt good to have done something constructive about it to be honest. If I thought I could actually manage to lug the rest of the stuff from the backyard to the front then I would (and still might, since it's niggling at me)... if my beloved landlord hadn't "gotten organised" the other week, I probably COULD have managed to move the stuff from near the front of the building to in front of the building... at the very least I would have attempted it.

As a general rule though, I DO love Hard Rubbish Week in North Adelaide (since it's split into three or four "zones", each of which gets a different day)... not only is there an ever expanding range of weird and useless things that appear on the footpaths (and quite often you look and think "Oooh, it's a BLANK... I could make use of a BLANK"... but then you realise that you would have to find a home for the BLANK in question and you don't have any room anyway), and then you get the Seagulls... not like actual seagulls... no, these are the ever expanding array of people who appear along the streets poking through the things other people have thrown away. And quite often they make things disappear before they've been out there very long. At least three different people were poking through the stuff I'd put out there before I'd even finished.

Reminds me of the day I went down to help Ma with her Hard Rubbish actually...

That was actually how I met my neighbour. Not one of my evil "in building" neighbours... no, the guy doing all the renovations in the building next to mine. He was out there looking at two crappy (and presumably broken) bikes I stuck out there (actually they were big hits, I think everybody who's looked at that stuff has had a look at them), and we said hello, got to talking.

And stood there talking for quite a while actually... about just random neighbour things really, and Hard Rubbish Week, and how my landlord has screwed up my building 108 ways from Sunday... you know, neighbourly things.

Oh great, one of my dumbass neighbours has returned with somebody else's Hard Rubbish... what's the bet they work out that the desk chair is actually broken and then dump it in the yard only AFTER the HR goes tomorrow.

Anyway, I stood talking with Neighbour Guy for ages, he kinda sorta suggested that I should actually come along to the Christmas Party thing I hate so much (since I had to know whether or not he was the one who organised it... but no, it seems that "Phil" and "Rob" (or maybe "Rod" I was only halfway paying attention) are behind that little extravaganza. Which makes about as much sense to me as it does to you, I can guarantee it...

Now if you'll excuse me I either need to go and drag a bunch of other stuff the entire length of my building (since I can hear it all mocking me from here), or else give up and have some lunch.

ADDENDUM: My inbuilt natural stubbornness won out... I just moved two small sofas, one ugly grey chair, two double or above sized mattresses, and one possibly single base. And just to let you know exactly the kind of people who live in my building, not one single person came out to ask me if I needed help... not ONE. And I know some of them are home, and not just the womens... fucktards...

Oh, and to top it off... I accidentally locked myself out of my apartment... the first time around was fine, I didn't touch the lock... this time, for some reason, I popped the top lock before I shut the door. Thankfully the place where I pay my rent just over the back has copies of the keys, so it wasn't as much of a drama as it COULD have been!

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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm annoyed by the whole, "Johnnie needs to make sure keys are on his person at all times" crap! If I didn't do that, there are times I'd lock myself down in the garbage room in the garage of my building. And I don't know my neighbors, if I needed help. Not that I've seen any of them, other than a few random people coming into the lobby, to even get to know them. I miss being able to just walk to my curb of my house and toss the garbage there. No concerns of being locked out. *sigh*

yani said...

This is only the third time EVER (in ten years) that I've locked myself out of this place, which is pretty good odds I have to say.

And you have no idea how much I covet your whole "don't know my neighbours or even seen them" thing... and I used to live in a very similar place when I first moved out of home... actually we locked outselves out of there by accident once (well, out of the building, not actually out of our apartment, which we left open), thanks to some fireworks happening out over the city, but luckily the woman who lived across the hall from us recognised us as we both got to the door.