While overall it’s been very cool living in the condo, there have been a few – inevitable – annoyances.
One is the aforementioned lack of counter space in the kitchen, which, once I get settled and get back into cooking, will become more of an issue. Along with that is the fact that there is only one drawer in the kitchen.
(Oddly enough, the bathroom sink has ample counter space and two drawers.)
Another problem in the kitchen, though this one is entirely aesthetic, is that where one might expect a pantry you’ll find the stackable, full-sized washer and dryer. This wouldn’t be a problem except that there is no kind of cover for them. They’re just there, sticking out like a sore thumb because they couldn’t fit any kind of door in the available space.
Why they didn’t put them in the linen closet in the bathroom (which is occupied by the water heater), where there’s plenty of room, is beyond me. I can’t help but wonder if this is something that could be corrected (at my expense) sometime in the future.
Other than that I just find myself getting used to having less space in general, as this place is quite a bit smaller than my old apartment, which, admittedly, was unusually large, what with the enormous bedroom and the nine foot ceilings.
(Feel free to make some kind of analogy about Pamela Anderson leaving Tommy Lee for…well, pretty much any guy to describe my dissatisfaction at moving from something unusually large to something a little more average.)
So far, though, the most irritating thing by far has been The Dog.
I don’t know what unit the dog is in, but every day, pretty much without fail, a dog somewhere in or near my building, begins barking at 10:30 am.
Based on the fact that there’s no apparent cause for it to be barking and the sort of forlorn whine with which it ends every round of barking (It barks in a pattern; six barks, pause for 1-2-3-4, six barks, pause for 1-2-3-4, six barks…), I’m assuming that what’s bringing this on is some kind of separation anxiety caused by its owner going to work.
It barks non-stop for about 45 minutes, then it whines for a while, sometimes letting out a full-on wail, and eventually it shuts up a little after noon.
The dog just sounds so sad as it rails against its owner’s callous and obviously incomprehensible daily abandonment that I would I would actually feel bad for the poor thing…if it weren’t for the fact that I kind of want it to develop throat cancer and die.
It’s just so incredibly irritating to have to listen to this every day. Nothing can drown it out, and it seems like it gets louder in every room I move to. The worst part is that I’ve been totally unable to locate the damn thing, though I suspect that it’s in the unit above mine, as in the evening I hear a lot of noises that could only be caused by a dog running around (or a hyperactive kid) coming from upstairs.
I don’t know what I would do if I found out where it was, though. I mean, despite how much I hate it and would like for natural causes or some kind of accident to take the dog out (Despite what some people might think, and what I might find myself wishing for at around 25 minutes into the barking, I’m not a fan of suffering of any kind, so the ideal situation would be for owner and dog to move), it’s not as if I would actually do anything to the dog, and I suspect that any person who owns a dog that needy and sensitive and just abandons it every day and leaves it locked up in a tiny space is unlikely to actually respond to any sort of request – reasonable or otherwise – from me to find some way to resolve the issue.
Honestly, I think it’s heartless and irresponsible to even own a dog in a situation like this. If you can’t be there for it often enough to keep it happy, why bother?
You can do the whole blah blah blah crap about the love and companionship that the dog provides and how it’s not your fault that you can’t live on some farm somewhere and that the fact that you live in a small space and have to work shouldn’t disqualify you from receiving the benefit of the dog’s love and companionship, but if you love your dog you should be considerate enough to think about the damage you’re doing to the animal’s mental health (to say nothing of the mental health of the anti-social hermit who just moved in to your building) by keeping it penned in and lonely all day long, then you’re pretty much just an asshole, period, and my personal feelings about the pointlessness of owning a pet at all don’t even enter into it.
But, the Lonely Dog and the various kitchen problems aside, I am happy to be a homeowner.
For the most part.
Honestly, I think that pretty much the only way for me to be truly happy is to live on a private island somewhere, far away from any kind of incidental human (or canine) contact, but that would take a lot more money than I have, and while I do have some ideas on that topic, that’s a subject for another day…
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