|By Shamus||Oct 13, 2014||112 comments|
The story of Why I Moved continues…
The music roars from downstairs. I was just sitting at my desk, enjoying a hot cup of PVC herbal tea when someone downstairs decided to pump up the volume. Downstairs, Wilma has brought her sisterI assume. Betty to live with them, who likes to crank up the music until we can feel the furniture vibrate.
On the upside, she does this during reasonable daytime hours. On the other hand, my wife sometimes works nights and needs to sleep during the day. I try not to get upset about this. It’s entirely possible that we’re worse offenders when it comes to noise. We’re on the top floor and we’ve got three teens. That can’t be quiet. Moreover, they’re probably blasting music to cover up the the furious tunneling of the water company. Judging by the sounds I’m hearing, I figure that they have uncovered a balrog, which they are now fighting.
I kept hoping the problems with my asthma would blow over. I really don’t want to move. Apartment hunting is ruinously time consuming, tedious, and stressful. Moving is expensive. I have multiple projects going right now and I can’t bear to have everything interrupted with that hassle. So I’ve been foolishly hoping that the cat wouldn’t be a problem. Or that it would be a nuisance instead of a danger. I’ve been telling myself that my recent allergy problems were just seasonal pollen, and that the apartments should be isolated well enough to keep me safe. I’ve been ignoring the signs, huffing on the inhaler, and hoping for the best. In the meantime, the dander has been building up.