Sorry

I apologize for the lack of posts as of late! I know I am long overdue and I really hate to disappoint my loyal fanbase of 6 weekly readers. Some excuses I have include:

- we no longer have internet at home
- some personal life developments which made things extra hectic around here
- a mass email I received from management reminding us about what constitutes improper internet usage while at work, which I immediately took to be directed at me, and
- I forgot the password to this account.

As I am at work right now and am having a mild panic attack from being on an "inappropriate non-work related website," this post will be a collection of pictures that I don't have enough time to fully explain. You will get the gist though.

Laundry Problems

You guys, the coffee table is still there. Every time I back out of the driveway, I want to run it over. It's been prematurely aggravating my road rage for 5 weeks now. Sorry, neighborhood. Our landlord stopped by earlier this week to check into a theory I had about something else and as he saw the coffee table, he asked, "Is that yours?" I just looked at him and didn't say anything. He then replied, "Point taken."

Back to my theory. I had noticed that for about 4-5 months now, our electricity bill has been out of control. Upwards of $80 a month (on average) for about 1,500 square feet of apartment where two people live. We had been paying less in the summer when we were blasting window AC units and fans every day! I was convinced something was up, so I called the power company and the landlord to inquire. The power company suggested I perform a breaker test, to which I responded, "Of course! That is a great idea. Why didn't I think of that!" Then I asked, "What is a breaker test?" Apparently, you go to your fuse box and switch all of those thingies to the "off" position. Those thingies are called breakers by the way, hence the breaker test. Then you go make sure that your electric meter stops spinning. Next, you turn each thingy ("breaker") back on slowly, one at a time, and watch the meter so that you can isolate what part of the house is using the most electricity. While this may sound quite simple in theory, I would like to report that practically, it is very difficult. Especially since the electric meter is outside and your fuse box is in the basement. And especially when you mistake the water meter for the electric meter and you are convinced that every time you turn the hot water on, your electricity usage skyrockets. Long story short, I have much to learn about how electricity and water works. I did watch a useful youtube video that teaches you how to read your electricity meter and I did learn the word "breaker" so that is 2 points, at least.

Welcome Home

Our dog is a 55-lb sack of potatoes who will voluntarily get up from her spot only under one of three conditions: 1) there is a more comfortable spot nearby; 2) someone said the word "treat"; or 3) loud noises. Her life is what I hope to be rich enough to have one day. It is usually considered an accomplishment when I can get her to walk all the way around the block in under 20 minutes. You know the old guy with the cane slowly crossing the street as you wait at a light to take a left turn? The guy that is going so unbearably slow that the oncoming traffic is about to close on your chance to turn? The guy that drops all his bags midway into the intersection and has to bend over to pick up everything up? Well, that guy passed us on the sidewalk. The point of this little tangent is so that I can talk about my dog. Also, it gives you some context for this next story. In her every day life, one extra foot of movement is like the end of the world to our dog. But if there's poop involved, she would walk 3 miles out of the way to avoid it. We'll be walking along on the sidewalk (racing an ant carrying a crumb 20 times it's weight) and if we come upon any unbagged dog crap, this is the route that I will be forced to take because our dog refuses to step over or step to the side of some other dog's poop:

This One's About Poop

We share a front porch with the people downstairs. Our front doors sit side by side and there are shared steps that lead down our front yard to the sidewalk and street. We (as in the upstairs people) like to refer to this front porch/step area as "the stoop." Our duplex sits on a relatively busy road about a block off of a very heavily-trafficked lake. We enjoy sitting on the stoop on late summer evenings, sipping on a beer and/or gluten-free cider and watching rich people drive by. We also like to use our stoop for things like entering and exiting our apartment. Never having lived in a neighborhood where it was technically considered "safe" to sit in front of your house after the sun sets, it is definitely an understatement to say that we really enjoyed hanging out on the stoop during the first couple of weeks of our move.

Then came the shit. Literally.