And a sweet one

Wednesday, 28 September 2011 22:07
epershand: A picture of a castle with an arrow next to it. (Castle)
I'm writing this post in the empty space that used to be my apartment. I'm sitting in the corner where there used to be a TV, using an internet connection from my cellphone because my actual phone and internet service have been moved elsewhere. I spent the last several hours repairing and disassembling furniture for pickup by a line of strangers who found me on Craigslist.

It is Erev Rosh Hashanah, the first night of the two-day holiday that marks the beginning of the new year. A block from here, my congregation has already wrapped up their evening service, a service I had a ticket for, but did not attend. I was here instead.

Symbolically, if not doctrinally, I have almost certainly spent tonight in the spirit of the holiday. Rosh Hashanah is a celebration, but it's also the beginning of the Days of Awe, the ten days when one is meant to clean one's worldly slate in anticipation of cleaning one's spiritual slate on Yom Kippur.

Here I am converting the rooms I lived in for three years from home to... not. Six blocks from here is another set of rooms, one that has over the last week rapidly become a home via a lot of laughter, many houseguests, many cuddles, a whole lot of booze, and Erik Lensherr's sharkface.

But in order to let myself be fully present in that apartment, I have to do this too, clear the way for the next person who will make this set of rooms into a home. I felt mindful of that tonight, which made the evening's activities--taking a part a desk; scrubbing a wall; poking ineffectually at the adhesive my landlords told me I wasn't allowed to put on the wall, feel like part of something bigger. The desk and the bookshelves I passed on tonight are moving off to new places and new people just as I am, and that feels really good.

But? If you happen to know any good ways to remove adhesive velcro from a wall without bringing the paint with it, could you let me know? Marcelino was totally wrong about rubbing alcohol.
epershand: Foreground: grape on a table. Background: Spencer Smith peeking deviously over the edge of the table. (Spencer/grape OTP)
Drive by post to mention that the rumors you've heard our true--[personal profile] marina's mutation is indeed the ability to transmogrify any space into a purring fangirl cuddle pile.

There have been adventures! [personal profile] marina has narrated them! There was twitter party liveblogging excellence during the XMFC Sobriety Was Never An Option party. [personal profile] kuwdora has consolidated them! I have seen many delightful people who I hadn't met before or hadn't seen in months or even years!

This morning I tiptoed out of a household full of slowly-stirring fangirls and went off to work a shift at my chorus's booze booth at the Folsom Street Fair, where I mixed twelve-gallon jugs of alcohol and snuck off to see TurbonegrA when they turned out to be performing a block away! And then I got to wander around with kuwdora and marina, taking smutty photographs of candy and boggling at the anatomy of others. I also acquired a delightful riding crop, although my rigorous comparison process... might mean that I have to wear long sleeves to work tomorrow >_<.

Tomorrow there will be Neon Trees, step 28339862695 in the clever process by which I intend to lure everyone around me into bandom in general, and the Neon Trees fandom I wish existed in particular. According to stories from Marina, though, I'm not nearly as clever at this as [personal profile] roga is...
epershand: Commie Batman swoops in! (Commie Batman!)
Currently working from home while the maintenance guys from my building management company replace my hot water heater and (surprise!) my doorbell. But have definitely been thinking about emergency preparedness in general.

At [personal profile] sassbandit's going-away party, a big group of us wound up settled in the living room talking about emergency preparedness and how our different backgrounds led us to think about it differently. One woman had lived through a 7.0 earthquake; one man pointed out that as a Londoner, he was prone to thinking of the sort of disasters that halted service as being human-made only, and not something that could come from the earth.

I grew up in an area where power outages were a regular winter event--the combination of windy rainstorms, trees with relatively soft wood, and standing powerlines meant that going for a few days without power over the course of the winter was expected. (This was, of course, after we got back "on the grid"--there were several years of my childhood where we relied on a generator for power on an as-needed basis because the power lines didn't run that far out into the woods.)

All this means that I don't treat electricity as a given. I have candles and matches easily accessible, I try very hard not to live anywhere that depends too much on electricity--gas oven/stove is mandatory, gas water heater is an excellent bonus. In a real post-earthquake situation, of course, the gas lines would likely be out along with (or even sooner than) the electricity, but my model is preparation for power outages.

What I'm not used to substantial preparation for is WATER outages, which is precisely what I've been dealing with for the last twelve hours or so. I turned off the gas and water supply to the hot water heater to stop the leak, but since apparently all cold water as well as hot is piped through that system, I've been completely without running water.

I've had sufficient resources to get me through it in the short term--several glasses of water scattered through the house, a few water bottles, the water left over in the kettle. The standing water in my unwashed pots and pans from dinner two days ago (procrastination WIN) for washing my hands.

I haven't had to dig into the official water supply in my Fancy-Schmancy Earthquake Kit, but I'm suddenly hyperaware of how little water there *is* in that kit, probably half a gallon at the most. So an item that has moved up several notches on my to-do list is to buy a few flats of bottled water for my "in case of emergency" stash.

And if you don't have water on hand, I'd strongly advise you to do the same. Because it *doesn't* take a major disaster to take away your water supply, just as it doesn't take a major disaster to take away electricity. (I've seen probably five DW friends post about water or hot water issues in the last six months, and [personal profile] melusina commented on my previous post that she's going through the same thing right now. It's an entirely mundane occurrence, and if it happens to me again I don't want to have to think about the trade-offs of brushing my teeth.
epershand: A picture of a castle with an arrow next to it. (Castle)
Had really lovely dinner with [personal profile] kuwdora tonight, wherein we plotted next week's Adventures With [personal profile] marina, I learned about Sanctuary, and kuwdora learned that in my head all of bandom is SECRETLY six degrees of Mormons and ex-Mormons. (Some people think of it as six degrees of Pete Wentz and Gerard Way, but apparently for me it's six degrees of Brendon Urie and Bert McCracken.)

And then I got home to find the hot water heater leaking all over the kitchen floor, because while my new home is the most adorable and most reasonably priced apartment in San Francisco it is NOT the lowest-maintenance. (In order to get working internet, I wound up having to have AT&T rewire the phone lines completely last weekend. On the bright side, FIBEROPTIC O.O)

One conversation with the Hot Water Heater Company and two with the Building Management Company later, I will apparently have someone out to take a look at it first thing in the morning. Let us keep our fingers crossed that the Hot Water Heater Company people are wrong and it doesn't require replacement, SHALL WE?

Also let's celebrate my calm in the face of large puddles, and the very clear documentation on the side of the heater for (a) turning off the gas and water and (b) calling the necessary people to resolve the problem.

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