#Or live in a condo

[trivialbob]

This is a pleasant time of year.

Leaves have started to fall. That feature of nature I could easily live without. However, it gets me outside and moving. Collecting the leaves brings me satisfaction. Seeing the green grass appear again... ahhhhhh.

Of course tomorrow afternoon little evidence of my work will remain.

It's mostly a Wednesday routine. Trash and yard waste collection here is on Thursdays. The day before I get out my Toro Super Recycler Muncher Shredder mower. I mulch and collect leaves in the mower's bag, then fill the large plastic yard waste container to the brim.

If I skip no more than one or two Wednesdays each fall I can get a full season's worth of leaves in that container before weekly service ceases for winter. It gives me joy if I don't end up putting excess leaves in those heavy paper bags we have to use nowadays. (You have to buy those things!)

Today's yard work is now done. The mower has been cleaned of dust. The big bin is down at the curb. My step count is up. The hot shower I'll soon take will feel well deserved, much nicer than a "just getting ready for office work" shower.

Not coincidentally, this is also the beginning of the Wednesday evening martini--eventually changing to Manhattan--season

[vintagehomecollection]

Rooms by Design, 1989

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

putting my prediction on record now that the coming decade is going to see the rise of viral-marketed fancy at-home water filtration systems, driving and driven by a drastic reduction in the quality of U.S. tap water (given that we are in a 'replacement era' where our current infrastructure is reaching the end of its lifespan--but isn't being replaced). also guessing that by the 2030s access to drinkable tap water will be a mainstream class issue, with low-income & unstably housed people increasingly forced to rely on expensive bottled water when they can't afford the up-front cost of at-home filtration--and with this being portrayed in media as a "moral failing" and short-sighted "choice," rather than a basic failure of our political & economic systems. really hope i'm just being alarmist, but plenty of this already happens in other countries, and the U.S. is in a state of decline, so. here's praying this post ages into irrelevance. timestamped April 2023

[sojutrait]

first couple months officially single

[guardian-angle22]

911 lone star fashion -> every carlos outfit

↳ 1.02

[marzipanandminutiae]

Marzi's Old House Supply Kit: A Non-Exhaustive List

So you've moved into an old house! Congratulations! No, no, look at me. Look in my eyes. Congratulations. You don't need smart lighting. You don't need paltry things like "showers that don't make ungodly noises if you set the water outside a very specific temperature range" or "logical staircases." Because those people who say They Built Them Sturdier Back Then is survivorship bias are wrong, lead paint is only a problem if you eat it, and your new home is basically a tank

also it might have stained glass. so basically you win

(no but seriously the Survivorship Bias argument is just like. tell me you don't live in a city with large quantities of remaining working-class 110-year-old buildings without telling me. I do. they're sturdier. end of.)

but you might need some things to make it a bit more comfortable. here's what I've found, over eight years of living in houses built 1920 or earlier

Power strips. Depending on the age of your house, it may or may not have had electricity originally. And even if it did, whoever lived there almost certainly had fewer things to plug in than the average denizen of the 2020s. There also may have been gorgeous wall sconces that some asshole heartlessly ripped out at some point, forcing you to use the hideous hateful Overhead LightTM or plug in a bunch of lamps. Either way, you're going to need to turn that single outlet in the room into several more. Hence, power strips.

(hey, I never said this list was free of my design biases. deal)

A Good Fan. You may live in a place where retrofitting with air conditioning was commonplace in the last several decades. I do not. So a good pedestal fan can make the difference between comfort and just not sleeping at all from late June to mid-September. Weirdly, I did once look at a place that was from the 1850s and had been retrofitted with central A/C, which is vanishingly rare in even urban Massachusetts. But I digress.

A stud-finder. "Marzi, you spent years of your life explaining to tourists that picture rails existed because trying to hammer nails directly into horsehair plaster and then putting weight on them did Bad Things." Yes I did. "What did you attempt to do the second week of living in your first house with horsehair plaster?" ...shut up. I used the Poltergeist Method to find solid wood- I don't know if it's actually studs or the lath or what; I'm not a builder -to hang my Lady and the Unicorn tapestry from, namely knocking on the wall until it doesn't sound hollow. You might want to go a bit quieter and more advanced. Or, if you have a picture rail, embrace the "long visible hanging wires" look. It is in fact there for a reason!

Window screens. You are actually required by Massachusetts state law to provide these to your tenants. Doesn't mean my last landlady did. And if you own your place, live in another state, or have a similarly laissez-faire building owner, you might end up needing to Bring Your Own Insect-Blocking Shield. Just make sure you've got them, one way or the other. Because see above re: fan vs. air conditioning in old houses.

WD-40. When's the last time those hinges were oiled? Potentially before television. And they WILL squeak. UPDATE I HAVE BEEN INFORMED THAT WD-40 IS NOT A GOOD LONGTERM SOLUTION. Find "actual oil." Not sure what the more specific name is. Good to know!

That's just what I've found needful so far, but I'm happy to update the list as required!

And you'd better believe, if I owned my own place, this would include "the name of a preservation contractor to undo all the unnecessary ~*MoDeRnIzInG*~ aesthetic bullshit the past owners did since the End of Mainstream Western House Beauty AKA 1920 (That Brief Rococo Revival In the 1930s Can Maybe Sit With Us)"

[geryone]

Was talking to a coworker about putting in an application for that apartment & she said that $1,850 was ridiculous for rent and that I should just buy a condo….girl what planet are you on???

[awkward-teabag]

Love (cannot emphasis how much sarcasm there is in that word) that an official Canadian government response to high cellphone rates is to switch carriers.

Switch it to what? We basically have three companies since one was allowed to eat the forth (with the government saying it wasn't anti-competition and the company eating the other pinky promising they wouldn't jack rates up). Even the smaller companies have to rent infrastructure from the Big Three so there's only so much they can do if that rent costs an arm and a leg.

And that's not touching on how many "small companies" are actually just subsidiaries of the Big Three. You may save $5 but you're still with Telus/Rogers/Bell.

Or that the actual small companies tend to have shit coverage because they don't have the infrastructure available to them and are prevented from getting it. Or their traffic is throttled in favour of the Big Three's customers. Or both.

Or that they're extremely regional thus aren't an option for a huge chunk of Canada's population.

We have no true options and the government has shown time and again that they're fine with monopolies, in multiple industries, and don't care when said monopolies jack up prices to make shareholders and the c-suite more money at the expense of everyone else. At most there will be a verbal slap on the wrist and a giftcard for $25 that people have to register for, for a decade and a half of price gouging.

It's not talked a whole lot about outside the country from what I've seen and heard but Canada is a country of monopolies. A handful of companies own nearly everything, every province has a family or two that owns a hell of a lot (Nova Scotia is basically owned by one family at this point), and our government ignores it. Even the branch that is supposed to be against monopolies is fine with mergers and takeovers in most cases.

Because, you know, the company said it totally wouldn't use consumers' lack of options to increase prices.

[zoloftsexdeath]

the only modern au that i can see working for dungeon meshi is fast food because where else are u going to get:

- middle aged man who loves his menial labor job so fucking much but isn't also part of a union

-middle aged divorcee + 3 kids with a baby face

-a bunch of 20 something year old clowns, one of whom is a furry with no people skills and a special interest in very specific food items and how to prepare them

-guy who wants to k*ll the furry and also maybe himself?

-marceille

all in one place?

[kittybricks]

listen I know it’s controversial but RTD was so correct when he decided that the doctor is the type of girl to have one sleepover with her best friend and then never leave her house again

[knightofleo]

Floor-to-Ceiling Bookcases and Windows in a Loft Style Apartment

[purrassicjet]

The "House and Wilson are strictly platonic" argument looses more weight the more episodes I watch

[askinnyblackman]

hello. how long does it take for your house to stop feeling like a hotel

[littlescaryinternetguy]

He put down the string he was coiling and stood up. Oh no she didn't, he thought. He climbed down the chain in the grandfather clock with practiced ease and slipped out of a very small crack in the back.

Ok, YES, this was stupid, he said to himself. Well then it's stupid. Maybe he's stupid. He looked to the sides, although he knew she was in the kitchen on her phone. Then he darted across the front room, along the wall in the dining room, and into the vinyl-tiled silo of the kitchen.

She sat at the table, finishing up her conversation with whomever. Pleasantries and goodbye. She put the phone on the table. Right. Let's do this.

He hadn't thought of how exactly he was going to hail her. Well, fuck it. He walked up to her shoe. Mercifully it dipped down below her ankle. He rapped upon it, three times.

She ascended into the atmosphere with the speed and sound of a rocket full of screech owls.

He stepped back a couple of paces while she landed on the chair, her feet scrambling against the tiled floor. She looked down with primal terror etched deeply on her face.

He cleared his throat.

She began to open her mouth but he interrupted, a miniscule bellow. He wasn't used to talking to big folk.

"OK, first of all: did you say I 'scurried'?"

She looked at him and slowly shut her mouth.

"You were talking on your phone device there and you said, 'This place has mice, I saw one scurrying this morning.' You said that."

"... did I? Wait. What..."

He cut in, no small feat when you consider that he was two inches tall with a voice to match, but he had righteousness on his side.

"That was me. I am not a mouse. No ears." He pantomimed ears, waggling his hand at the sides of the top of his head. "No tail." He turned around and shook his rear end at her. "Not a mouse."

She took in this information. He was undoubtedly right. He was not a mouse.

"What... what are you?"

He hadn't considered that. He tried to keep his stern look. His neck was getting sore from craning it so far back.

"A tenant. Just like yourself. A tenant of long-standing."

"Oh," she said. Well that settled that: everything was completely insane. Now that that was clear, she relaxed a bit.

"You said 'first of all'." "Did I?" he said. He hadn't thought this far ahead. He hadn't thought at all. To be honest, it had already been a long day in a long string of long days. Getting called a rat, well, who could have stood for that? "Well! Yes I did!" He desperately tried to keep his composure. He sensed the power shifting and he wanted to be gone before it went all the way.

"I like the way you play piano."

He turned and started walking back towards the front room. He was just riffing at this point. He was just saying anything, trying to wrong-foot her. Well, really more screaming anything. Keep her confused. Could she even hear him? The truth was he did like the way she played piano. Not infrequently, he would climb into the instrument from the back so he could hear the squeak and rasp of the pedals being used, in a cloud of sound, the wires blurring as they were struck. When he did that he could feel the music more than hear it.

He could only do that every so often because he'd be deaf for hours afterwards. Usually he just sat quietly far up in the clock and listened.

"... thanks?"

"Keep it... uh, keep it up," he yelled at the top of his voice. He reached the door from the kitchen to the dining room. She remained in her chair. He turned around. He suddenly remembered something her heard her say to someone who was leaving.

"SMELL YOU LATER."

He had never run so fast as he did then, but he didn't hear her trompy footsteps coming. He made it into the clock.

What did I just do? he thought.

She remained at the table, glanced around, reached across for a half-full bottle of cabernet.

He likes the piano, she thought as she took out the cork, regarded it for a second, threw it over her shoulder and drank straight from the bottle. She looked down at the sheet music on the table. One page. Vexations, by Eric Satie.

She smiled and put down the bottle. This oughta hold him, she thought.

[triflingthing]

coffee, work, & furniture rearranging 

[petrovna-zamo]

Love the new pod setup