Friday, October 19, 2018

Friday Night Fall Foliage Fail -OR- Down With Rising Damp and Roach Feces, Up with a New-and-Renovated Flat

A sunny autumn day, 1500 block U Street NW, Washington, D.C., 12:58 p.m. Oct 17, 2018

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Friday evening.

For starters for this entry, I would like to note that the fall foliage display this year -- at least so far -- has been almost entirely missing across vast swaths of the eastern United States. This is thought to be due to the extended warmth, overabundance of rainfall, and extreme and relentless humidity that only ended with a major pattern shift last week.

Foliage Network map of mid-October fall colors for parts of the eastern United States for the years 2009 - 2018; featured in this CWG entry.

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Although a bout of chilly and dry fall weather are forecasted including here in the D.C. area -- specifically, early next week following a frontal passage tomorrow night -- it's unclear if we are going to get any good autumnal colors. Also, the pumpkin crop this year is very poor in our region because of all the antecedent wet weather.


Maybe it's a foul Trump / GOP / Mitch McConnell dystopian reality that's fucking up everything. I can believe that.

Speaking of trees …

"The world's loneliest tree:" A Sitka spruce, the sole tree, on New Zealand's Campbell Island.

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As an update, for next week, I'm moving -- really, just switching apartments in the same building -- on Tuesday into Wednesday. It's a simple move as I really do not have a lot of stuff. This flat has been renovated and is in good condition. I think.


I am then going to Detroit (Detroit??) for a short work conference the following week. I'll actually only be away one night (Monday night, Oct 29th). The week after that is the midterms and at the end of it, my Veterans Day holiday weekend trip to Atlanta to see Chris T.

"Put Your Hands Up 4 Detroit!"

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About that move, I think it's coming at a good time. My current apartment -- where I've lived since July 2009, itself my second unit that building where I first moved way back in February 2005 -- appears to be having some serious issues.

Or maybe it just can't wait for me to get the hell out.

Specifically, the situation in the bathroom has gotten strange, possibly due to the two very old oldsters who live above and next to me (in a building that is otherwise increasingly all just upper middle class millennials).

Following a general repainting recently, there was an immediate and massive issue of what the British call "rising damp" (see image at left that I found online) with the paint and plaster caking and flaking out -- even to the extent of forming complex and intriguing wall patterns. Alas, none of the patterns suggest Jesus or the Virgin Mary, so no financial fleecing of the faithful.

The ceiling is also on the verge of undergoing a massive caking / flaking / paint chipping event despite the brand-knew paint coating. (A plaster chunk fell today from the spot where the radiator pipe enters the ceiling.)

The is also the matter of extensive paint chipping in the living room and starting in the kitchen. The whole place needs a thorough renovation -- and even if it gets it and a happy 25-year old vegan millennial girl moves in, there's still the possibility that the man upstairs will cause another kitchen flood.

Finn in Atlanta. He's happy and/or clueless.

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Returning to the bathroom, I think there is also an issue of outright water leakage from old piping behind the wall, although the building manager (Julie) thinks it is due to how wet (rainy) it was all summer with water leaking into the interior.

She also thinks the fact that I have typically kept it so air-condition chilled in my apartment (at least in the little living room) also is contributing to the "extrusion" of water from the bricks through the plaster and paint.

Then was also the matter of strange, sticky yellow-brown droplets appearing on the wall -- "dripping" like molasses from the bottom of the wall mirror.

I said in jest that it was the bricks "extruding" tobacco juice, but Julie suggested that were roach droppings emerging from behind the mirror.

Roach feces.

Lovely.

Maybe I should ask Wall-P, as he's not just a tool of oligarchy, but he's also a mechanical cockroach.

"Eh. Eh. Eheheh. I can't conceive of being unable to conceive of that which has no cash value. And since roach feces have no value ---"

Ohhhhh, shut up, you wanker.

Speaking of roach feces, here's a picture of the BIG Y'EYEMAH and I as we were reading the Trump Lovers' Travel Guide review about our TOTALLY FAILED bed-and-breakfast venture:


Look at us. Aren't we a pair? Such success. God has truly blessed, yea, verily, our undertaking and our union. Annuit Coeptis and all that. 

The review was set to the lyrics of that PiƱa Colada song by Rupert Holms and this was the part where we had just read: "They are not into clean rooms. They are IN to roach feces!"

Not to worry, though, because the BIG M'EYEMAH opened a prayer circle about it and we moved into an even lower-rent trailer. I got fired from McBurger King and she put on another 100 pounds.


OK, that's all for now. I'm signing off. My next planned entry will be tomorrow. For tonight -- as it's Friday -- I think I'll stop at the Round Robin and then Old Ebbitt.

--Regulus

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