omnis audis, might be worth investing in a Nolo book on CA renter's rights. Or check it out from the library if they have it.

Omnis audiis go here

[link]

It seems the repairs I need are all "minor", which is probably why they keep getting put on the back burner. Part of the problem is that a few weeks after I signed lease, the building changed property management companies. So the e-mail I sent when I first moved in was ignored by the old company. And then the whole "oops, we don't use that addy anymore" bullshit. So we shall see what happens this week.

Ha! And that "frontdesk@[company].com" addy is **STILL** on the website in the tenant page, the place to e-mail Maintenance Request Forms to! @@ If only I didn't like the apartment, this would be easier. But it's a cute place, and rather convenient.

Document all this stuff in case things get worse. It may seem dealable now but there may come a time when it isn't and you'll want to document bad faith dealings.

Oh yes! I took pictures of everything on the move in day.

{{{Kristin and Drew}}} Here's hoping you're kept better-informed from now on, and that you both get rest.

I'm sorry to hear about your uncle, Teppy.

Better treatment from landlord~ma, omnis. We had one like that a couple of years ago - so many problems that they wouldn't sort out, including a presumably-illegal oven that was overheating and setting things on fire. They finally caved on that one about a year after we first complained, but lots of other things were permanently ignored. Bad landlords are awful. Wishing you repairs!

I'm going to Quaker meeting, or I'll do nothing all day but obsess over the article I'm trying to write. And that's not actually work.

{{Drew}} {{Pix}}

I'm so sorry about your uncle, Teppy.

I just want my damn dishwasher fixed, and the flappers in the toilets to stop leaking.

Can you hire a contractor and pay for the work yourself, and send in the bill along with your next month's rent minus the cost of repairs?

This is actually one of the things I *like* about owning my house. I'm responsible for repairs, but the shit gets done when I want it done. (Once I found a good handyman. The first one was ridiculous.)

Oh, ugh. I'm so sorry it has been such a wretched evening. Drew and Kristin, I'm so glad that the hiccups are gone; there was no hysteria in evidence, not even a bit; and I'm so glad you have each other and all the rest of the LAistas. And I'm vibing for maximum wisdom and competence for all the doctors caring for Drew.

And, Teppy, your poor uncle, your poor family. Much love to all of you.

I'm up with insomnia, puttering around (leaving from here to dwell in the land of Sudoku, the perfect can't sleep combination of thinky and totally abstract -- crosswords are bad, because words lead to stories and imaginary conversations and fretful what-ifs; numbers lead to more numbers).

The medical folk next door just got back from a late shift and now they're out on the porch drinking and discussing their folks and playing mix tapes of what sounds like old WPA interviews with Depression-era elderly men (or possibly Tom Waits) interspersed with Joni Mitchell and a younger generation of little girls with big guitars. It's oddly soothing.

Old man on the tape is definitely not Tom Waits; he is talking about a cousin who wanted to be a priest and went to a seminar, but then became a member of the Black Hand anyway, and about the Black Hand activity all over Italy and parts east, and what strands came to the US, with digressions into immigrants buying or renting homes on land owned by gas companies, with propane tanks buried all over the property and hot spots that could go up at any time, which made them cheap enough to be attractive to poor immigrants. Plus, houses built that long ago always had living rooms large enough for women to give birth in them. Newer houses don't have rogue propane tanks, which is good, but they lack decent sized living rooms, which is a problem for expectant mothers.

And now he's talking about the weird beauties of hopping the trains with his friends and his dad at age 8. This is much too interesting. It's no good for insomnia at all.

Pix and Drew I hope today brings less pain, good answers, and more better healing.

Steph, so sorry to hear about your uncle.

Stephanie - enjoy the hot air balloons! I hope work and neighbors get better soon.

IOmemeN: Dear lake Erie, I know we need to get along for the sake of the family. You, with your 3 seasons of allergens? Not really trying all that hard on your end. Though the sunrise was lovely. Wary and sniffly love, me

Also, my inlaws? Made of amazing stuff.