Here are two buildings:
The one on the left is, to me, the most beautiful building in the whole of our ‘village’. I have always thought so, and couldn’t believe it when we moved into it in June. The one on the right is the one we actually come home to each and every day. In case you’re counting, the last flat we lived in was ensconced in scaffolding for seven months. This one is slated to be as well, with the added bonus of being completely wrapped in plastic sheeting. We are due to see out our living room windows again sometime in April. It will make a total of over a year of living behind scaffolding and as renters-not-owners, living with no upside from the works. All our guests seem to be coming before April. Sorry, guests. Our building used to be somebody.
The very first day we moved in we heard the loudest snoring I have ever heard through a wall in my life. And through carpeting too. When Greg was just here visiting, he said the same thing as it’s loudest coming into Simon’s room. I felt so terrible but what can I do? Ask my stranger-neighbor to get surgery?
So we awoke Friday morning at 6:30am to a banging on our door and someone shouting “There is a leaking coming from your flat!”. I sprung from the bed and ran around the flat in a half-asleep state, trying to figure out which faucet I had stupidly left running overnight. But there was nothing. It was the snoring neighbor, and he yelled again that it was coming from the first bedroom. Jonah’s. We flung the door open and there it was: water pouring from the ceiling light fixture and down every wall. I scooped up the toddler and then ran to get the baby. I didn’t know what was going on but, you know- women and children first, right?
The wife-of-snorer from the flat below came up again to tell us to put buckets down and as I was speaking to her, I heard a loud boom. I knew before she did. Um your ceiling just fell, I said. Noooooo, her eyes said.
Their ceiling fell. Spectacularly. And the next 7 hours of the day consisted of: expeditions on the roof to discover construction/scaffolding materials blocking a drain pipe overnight during the heavy rain and visits from property managers, site managers, insurance adjusters, contractors and finally, a very cute and friendly Australian wet/dry vac operator who took two hours to get the water out of Jonah’s carpet while regaling me with the story of how he, a Christian Australian, just married a Muslim Canadian and they met at a Jewish wedding. Also, he brought the wet/dry vac on his scooter. We both remarked that North Americans have not embraced the scooter thing as transport. Indeed.
But that’s not the point of my story. Nope. Not the deluge of water or mess or legal wranglings I might be involved in because I know the construction site manager is lying about origin of responsibility. Even the Australian and his Canadian wife (they have never even lived in the same country together!) are not the story. The real story is that it turns out the neighbor-snorer is a famous very talented person. I mean, this photo says it all:
Remember this awesome commercial? He scored it:
And look at the “scrap paper” he used to write a note to the builders!
I am honored – HONORED – to hear his snores.