That’s what this Cassini movie is called.
Last night Katie and I got together for more resume magic. We thoroughly reviewed it and then printed out 40 copies. At one point during the evening she curled up on the couch with me and I got kinda nostalgic about the other times we curled up on the sofa watching Buffy, you know, back in the good old days when my (Ed: enough of that, now!) – well erm, uh. Nostalgia, the curse of humanity (points if you know which Dunnett book I swiped that from).
Keith was over too, his job is going reasonably well.
We all ate pork chomps, expertly cooked by Jeff, and broccoli and corn and garlic bread.
It’s not like Jeff and I have been wishing that the people downstairs would magically disappear or anything, but I guess telling them in writing that the domestic violence and partying on weeknights until 3:30 am had actually penetrated our thick skulls was TOO MUCH for them, so they told the landlord we were crazy and made incredible amounts of noise and gave their notice yesterday.
I hope they get counselling. I remember overhearing Amber say to her girlfriends when they were outside partying last Monday that she wished she could have a relationship where she could just call him and tell him where she was going – and she sounded amused and resigned, not bitter or resentful. Erk. I think he’s too smart to actually hit her but their fights were screaming repetitively I’m done with you and making so much noise with the furniture that it sounded like pianos being pushed off balconies. Of course, the people who move in next could be worse, but I’m thinking that if the landlord has the sense to tell the incoming tenants that our schedule is 5:30 am to about 10:30 pm, 7 days a week, he’ll be able to cull the party animals from the herd.
Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s a landlord’s market in Vancouver right now. Tony the landpeer can set the bar really high if he wants to, and he likely should try. Gentrification strikes again, and affordable housing is vanishing.
The saddest thing about them moving is Dezi and the dog. Dezi’s the 4 year old. A sweet thing, but whiny. Meadow, OMG Meadow is a sweet sweet dog, and she came up yesterday and hung with me and Jeff as we had our Frostees on the back deck. She curled up under Jeff’s chair and visibly winced when her master called her – repeatedly – and only went downstairs, throwing reproachful glances over her shoulder with every step when I softly encouraged her to go on home. What will happen to them, God alone at his eye-window knows. (Points for the Dunnett reference… again).
Maybe you know someone who is looking for a place that you could recommend as tenants? Poor dog.
I hope they find a decent tenant. But, of course, there’s no guarantee that their threat to move out – which, alas, is not supported by formal written notice – will come to pass with the speed we could wish for.
If they do anything which could lead a reasonable person to call cops we’ll do it….
And you are so right about Meadow. I would take her in a heartbeat if it were in any way feasible.
… perhaps in conjunction with a formal written complaint from you and Jeff to the landlord this may result in some action being taken. If you feel the animal is in jeopardy, animal rescue leagues can step in. If you received my last e-mail, Jenn has opened her own rescue league and is well versed in courses of action…