huge holes in my house.
Okay, so, for a while now our apartment complex has looked like a war zone because they're kicking out all the current tenants and turning the place into fancy-pants condos. It started with the roof. These workmen would come at what felt like dawn to take down the shingles and plywood from the roof...and then they'd fling it down to the helpless ground below. Woke me up every day.
My dad came to visit then. It was raining and those fools were working like mad. Damn straight. Fix my roof, fool. When we were leaving to go have dinner, we opened the door and a huge sheet of plywood landed about four feet in front of us. My dad clung to the side of the building, like any smart person would, so the eave would cover him up.
Now. Now they're replacing our windows. They told us they were doing this yesterday. That's right. Not even 24 hours of notice. I'm sure glad we were home.
But this is the best part: they're taking out the old windows by scoring them with a super-duper-cuts-glass-like-butter knife...and then breaking them. The guy who's doing the breaking went upstairs first and John and I were downstairs. Then I hear what I'm sure is him banging up our bedroom window with a hammer. Luckily, it is a bit more systematic than that. But only a bit.
So I give you this wisdom: it can get really cold inside a house that has two 5'x4' holes in it.
He's working in the kitchen now. Beating the living crap out of my window frame. Oh yes, I didn't mention that. When the glass is gone, they beat the frame and all that's left out of the building with a hammer. A hammer, people. Talk about scaring a poor country girl into wanting to go back to her native land and hide under the kudzu... I want to go take my dishes and put them in a safe. Take a hammer to my kitchen, will you? Screw you, buddy.
I'm freezing. And I can hear his twangy country music coming from his too-crazy-loud headphones. Over the hammer. God, protect me.
Gotta stop typing, the breeze is numbing my damn fingers... Great. They're outside freaking out 'cause it might rain. Oh. Don't I know it will.
My dad came to visit then. It was raining and those fools were working like mad. Damn straight. Fix my roof, fool. When we were leaving to go have dinner, we opened the door and a huge sheet of plywood landed about four feet in front of us. My dad clung to the side of the building, like any smart person would, so the eave would cover him up.
Now. Now they're replacing our windows. They told us they were doing this yesterday. That's right. Not even 24 hours of notice. I'm sure glad we were home.
But this is the best part: they're taking out the old windows by scoring them with a super-duper-cuts-glass-like-butter knife...and then breaking them. The guy who's doing the breaking went upstairs first and John and I were downstairs. Then I hear what I'm sure is him banging up our bedroom window with a hammer. Luckily, it is a bit more systematic than that. But only a bit.
So I give you this wisdom: it can get really cold inside a house that has two 5'x4' holes in it.
He's working in the kitchen now. Beating the living crap out of my window frame. Oh yes, I didn't mention that. When the glass is gone, they beat the frame and all that's left out of the building with a hammer. A hammer, people. Talk about scaring a poor country girl into wanting to go back to her native land and hide under the kudzu... I want to go take my dishes and put them in a safe. Take a hammer to my kitchen, will you? Screw you, buddy.
I'm freezing. And I can hear his twangy country music coming from his too-crazy-loud headphones. Over the hammer. God, protect me.
Gotta stop typing, the breeze is numbing my damn fingers... Great. They're outside freaking out 'cause it might rain. Oh. Don't I know it will.
Labels: apartment., atlanta.
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