Entries Tagged 'house' ↓

People’s Gas stopped by last night.  At about 10:30p.  Yes, we had called them.  J had a headache, I noticed I was a little dizzy.  Our carbon monoxide detector hadn’t gone off, but those are the dots J connected.

So the two person crew got here — in less than their advertised average 25 minute response time.  We checked the front room.  Nothing.  We checked the basement.  Nothing.  We checked upstairs.  Nothing.

And then we turned on the oven.  And there was a small smell of gas and a couple of minutes later the crew’s detector started going off — way off.  Instead of the 10 parts per million they’re comfortable with, it went straight to about 200.

“That’s why you’re dizzy,” one of the guys said.

So the oven is off — disconnected.

Thanks for coming by Peoples Gas.

The lovely J woke me up at 1:30a.  “Someone’s trying to break in!  I’ve heard someone trying to get in the front door.”

Fuck.

So I started The Sweep.  Being somewhat paranoid* I have a pattern of how I sweep the house.  I started it.  And when I got to the front room — it was empty.  But then I looked out the small window of the front door.

And there was someone sitting on our step.

Holy crap!  But — then again — if they’re just sitting there — what’s up?

It was our neighbor, whom we’ve seen wandering around drunk at 9a.  He lives four houses down.  And he thought this was clearly his place.

I go out and ask him to leave.

He says:

“No! This is my house!”

“Hey — you gotta dollar on the side?”

“Who — that’s right!  Good seeing you.”

“I’m an old man.  Get off of my propoerty.”

“How much did you pay for this place?”

“You know what? You’re kinda cute!”

And then he went back to trying to get in the front door. Only, this time, he took out a single, and attempted to feed it in, vending machine style.

“Hey — can you make this thing work? I gotta go to bed!”

That’s when J called the cops.  Oh yeah, the 911 operator started giggling when J described the scene.  Nice.

He was still at the stick a dollar in the door game when they arrived, about 5 minutes later.  They managed to get him off of my steps and back to his house with nothing more than some sharply toned verbal direction.  No arrest, no guns, no cuffs.  The right approach.

Hey Chicago Cops who showed up: Thanks, guys.  I appreciate the help.

Now I wonder what to say to the guy the next time I see him sober.  I’m pretty sure he’ll claim amnesia.  I’ll keep you posted.

* Being paranoid doesn’t mean no one is out to get you.

We bought the baby furniture from PM Bedroom Gallery. Love it. Hickory, well made in Wisconsin. Each piece is hand signed.

The same piece, closer, with everything opened up.

The drawers are a little stiff, but nothing a little WD40 won’t cure. All three pieces look great.

So we’re out looking at houses and I gotta say I’m not that impressed. Out of 14 places, 1 looks interesting. Particularly bad: the house the renter and the crap all over the place and the moldy basement that’s been on the market for a year. Also bad, the one with two yappy dogs that have peed all over the place and the sagging lintels. One of the interesting properties is in good condition and has a good lot but has been on the marlet for 387 days. Seriously? 387? Lower the price already.