Won’t you be my neighbor? (part 2)

So, my first introduction to my neighbors wasn’t ideal.  But since moving into this building, I’ve seen a few more new faces.  Here are all the neighbors I’ve met so far. (I don’t know any of their names, so I have bestowed upon them whatever name I feel they should have.)

1.  Chatty Kathy: Her name isn’t actually Kathy, but she was very friendly in the laundry room.  I really liked this girl, and we found out she lives on my floor.  She is also a teacher, so we had lots to chat about.  The best thing about her is she was normal.  Of course, she also warned me about a homeless man who may or may not be sleeping in our stairway!  Her only proof is the horrible smell and someone burning incense in the stairwell a few mornings….but the thought was a little scary.  EEk.  Thanks girlfriend.  (I refused to take the stairs for three days after our conversation.)  When I ran into Kathy a second time in the laundry room, I actually introduced myself this time.  She said she had told her girlfriend all about the nice girl from the laundry room.  (Manners, people!  They work.)

2. Keisha Key – Two times now the lady who lives two doors down has had to tell me I left my keys in the door.  The second time she was very concerned, “Girl, you gotta stop doing that!”  I’ve run into her on the stairs a few times.  Every time she asks me if I have my keys with me.  I no longer find this cute.

3. Kelly Key – Not only do I leave keys in doors, but I also get them stuck.  I recently had my key stuck in the back door.  I tried for a couple of minutes trying to pull the key out.  I was really panicked for a moment because I had no idea what the key stuck in the door protocol would be.  Luckily, a woman walked by, and instead of pretending like she didn’t notice the difficulty I was having (which if I am being honest, is probably how I would have reacted to someone else with the same problem), she came over to help.  She rescued my key and informed me that the back door is often a problem.

4. Marshall Artist: When I first saw Marshall, he was getting off the elevator and taking out his trash.  He was kind of good looking so I was taking an extended glance when I noticed the nunchucks hanging from his belt.  (or Nunchaku)  Here’s the question I want to know: Was he taking the nunchucks to the dumpster for protection or are they always just hanging out on his belt?  Or is there a third possibility I haven’t even thought of??

5. Ryan: This weekend I finally took my ancient and tiny television to the dumpster.  (I got a new t.v. for Christmas so the old one has been sitting in the floor for close to four months now.)  When the elevator opened, there were already four people in the small space.  This is very odd since the residents of my building are like cockroaches – you only see one at a time, but you know that there are more around.  I didn’t concern myself with most of them because Ryan (I am naming him after Ryan Gosling) was on the elevator.  Ryan has the ‘typical Chicago guy’ look: beard, plaid flannel shirt, a one-strap backpack, and very good-looking.  He had a bag of trash in his hand which meant we were both walking to the dumpster.  I asked him to open the door for me since I was carrying a television from 1992 and my hands were full, and unfortunately that is where our love connection ended.  I’m still brainstorming ways I can ‘accidentally’ run into him again.

This is not actually my t.v., but the exact same model.  I’m sure I looked super hot while toting this technological miracle around.

6.  Gilbert aka Spiderman – I can’t write about my neighbors without mentioning Gilbert.  I have seen Gilbert twice since the incident.  The first time, he thanked me yet again for ‘helping him out that one time’.  I couldn’t get my door open fast enough.

Won’t you be my neighbor?

I recently moved to a new apartment.  I’m living alone now, and I have a story to share.  No, this is not going to be about how much I love living alone and cooking in my underwear.  This story is even better.

I got home from work, and I decided to lie down for just a few minutes before I began the chore of preparing my dinner (I say prepare because the majority of the time this process involves a microwave).  Not thirty seconds after reclining, I hear a loud knocking on my door.

“Hello!  Hello!  It’s Gilbert.”

Since I do not know a Gilbert, I assumed this was a mistake or maybe the knocking was on my neighbor’s door.  The walls are pretty thin.  But the knocking continued, and I answered the door.  Gilbert launched into rapid-fire speech, “Hey, I locked my keys out of my apartment.  Your husband helped me before.  I just need to get my keys.  Can I come in like last time?”

I was completely confused.  I had to explain to Gilbert that I do not have a husband and that I only moved in a week ago.  It turns out our windows are perpendicular to each other, and Gilbert had inexplicably locked his keys in his apartment.  Our building manager had gone home for the evening, and instead of paying an $80 fee, Gilbert proposed climbing from my window into his own to retrieve said keys.

I was a little unsure about the whole situation (I should mention that Gilbert was missing at least his two front teeth), but for some reason I let the man into my apartment.  He did tell me he wasn’t crazy, so that meant something, right?

Once we approached the window, I realized that this was not going to be an easy task.  To start, my screen did not open all the way so Gilbert was trying to squeeze himself through a tiny opening to reach the outside edge.  Also, our windows were SUPER FAR APART.  This was going to be a dangerous ordeal.

Exhibit A: The distance from window to another…not actually my window.

 

Exhibit B: How far my screen opens.  Now, picture Gilbert’s ass in that tiny space.

As Gilbert hovered on my window ledge, he admitted that he wasn’t the one who climbed through the window last time – it was someone’s (I assume the former tenant of my apartment) girlfriend who was very thin and nimble.  After a few minutes and many prayers from Gilbert(“Oh Jesus, Oh Lord”), it was decided that my screen needed to be removed from the window completely.  Now he was ready to ‘Spiderman this shit’ as he put it.

Exhibit C: The gray box Gilbert straddled before flinging himself headfirst through his window.

With the help of conveniently placed electric box, Gilbert did eventually make it through his window.  But there were moments when I was certain that Gilbert would plummet to the concrete below and I would have to call 911.  And what would I say to the paramedics?  Endless terrible scenarios ran through my mind.  (Can I also say, I haven’t spent that much time staring at a man’s ass that I wasn’t attracted to… in fact, I’ve never stared at any man’s ass for that long.)

Exhibit D: Where Gilbert would have landed had he not been able to ‘Spiderman that shit’.

But the story doesn’t end there.  Gilbert returned to my apartment to fix my screen which he had promised to do as he took it off.  As he was fumbling with the screen (unsuccessfully), I got some advice:

“I’m so sorry.  I’m not handy at all.  Never saddle yourself with a useless man.  It’s the worst.  Make sure you find a man who can fix things.  I’m so sorry.”

Well, I waited politely, and then I gave my two cents on the whole screen-reattaching-project.  When my advice proved successful:

“Wow, you’re better at this than I am.  I’m so sorry.  Thanks for helping me out.  You’re a good person.  You have a good heart.  It’ll come back to you.”

Finally, the window was back to normal and the ordeal was over.  What a first introduction!  I’m convinced that things like this only happen to me.  I can sometime be a  crazy-magnet.  Where’s Mr. Rogers when you need him?  Needless to say, I immediately locked my windows upon Gilbert’s exit.

Still Not Settled

Although I have officially unpacked everything (except for that box that needs be taken to the basement but I’m getting to it, I promise), I don’t feel settled in Chicago yet.  I have figured out how to get to the theater and back home safely – I’ve even gone out on my own navigated some other neighborhoods, but the city doesn’t feel like it’s mine yet.  My neighborhood doesn’t even feel like my own yet.  Actually, I’m still not sure my apartment feels like mine.

My teeny, tiny Chicago room has been completely decorated with all things that shout me!  Me on my bookshelves, me on the walls, and me in that pile of dirty laundry on the floor that I was going to do today but didn’t seem to find the time.  Past my bedroom door is a different land…the land of boys.  My roommates are great and friendly, but I’m still not sure how I fit into this microcosm of Chicago called ‘our place’.

I’m just not used to living with other people.  I haven’t had a roommate who wasn’t a family member in four years, and even that family member couldn’t stand to live with me for longer than the 1 year lease.  I’m walking on egg shells a bit.  My version of walking on eggshells is apparently spending all my time in my room and discovering old television shows on Netflix.  (Have you seen Friday Night Lights?  GREAT show.  I’m all for an hour long drama driven by teenagers and hot/tortured boys like Tim Riggins trying to figure out their place in this world and on his Texas football team.  But is completing a whole season in three days a little sad?)

I know it’s probably just because I’m not very busy.  And I’m definitely not making any money yet.  I’ve made phone calls and sent emails – I even have people at the theater looking out for me – but nothing yet.  I’ll admit I’ve got a few things ‘in the works’ but I’m a completely impatient person and I’m starting to panic at the rate at which the total balance of my checking account is changing.  Of course, usually when stuff like this happens, my reaction is to shut down and lose myself in some t.v., movie, book, etc. (see above paragraph).

I don’t even have a favorite restaurant yet.  Back home, there were a few places where my best friend and I would love to go.  The food was a comfort (notice I said comfort, not necessarily good), we had our favorite booths picked out, and most of the wait staff already knew that I wanted a big Diet Coke to drink.  Of course the very best part was talking to my friend and learning every detail of what happened to you that day.

Ok, I feel myself moments away from turning some sappy, feel-sorry-myself mood so I must pick myself up and try to move on.  Maybe going to the grocery store will help (I already know where one is) and maybe even doing this big pile of laundry (have I mentioned my laundry room yet?  I need to remember to do that).  Then, with food bought and laundry cleaned maybe I’ll reward myself with Season 2.

Can you see the small town, teenage angst beaming from their eyes straight to your soul?

My favorite Riggins look….sweaty hair after practice.

Are you grossed out by his hair are totally turned on?

You can’t decide!!!!

You’re Welcome.