I made a statement to my carer today that I think I’ve already offended a new neighbour. She bluntly asked what I had done? I snorted a laugh at her not even looking at her. I told her it’s not that I had gone out of my way to do so it would have been unintentional. I then played out how much easier it would be if I actually intended to offend people. I mean, I’d just go outside, point to the first person I saw and ask…” You know what you looked like when you left home today?” And you still left!
A snort laugh I then shared with my carer, then further examples. Same tone, I then suggested they would definitely be the days I should self-isolate. Don’t answer that! Not a question, apply filter!
So, as it is after 1am on the day this is to fly free I will attempt to keep this short and sweet. As if I could, I can but try.
After a successful weekend of films, Bridgerton, food and sleep and a lack of adulting I surfaced to prepare a late snack and coffee around 4pm Sunday, I made a sharp turn and found myself on the floor between my dining table chair and the kitchen bench. Yes, in simple terms I fell. I even reached up to stop the dinner plate that was still trying to settle on the table. If there was any other place harder to wriggle out of in my apartment, I don’t know where I would find it. But alas, extraction was achieved. When I am home and I find myself on the floor it is guaranteed I am home alone! Thoughts of how much I need a husband never more important than these times!
Falling halfway between my apartment door where I need to slide over and put my cuff and collar outside so whoever I can reach out to help me, can enter without me needing to slide over to let them in. My best option to have a fall is my bedroom to use the edge of my bed to lever myself up a little at a time. The bedroom is a location that offers carpet for under my knees and if I can message some upward direction, I have. Soft landing if I can raise myself that high. Because timing is simple, I had been awaiting the arrival of a friend that has been busy for the last year since I saw her last. She recently returned from eighteen days in Turkey. A photo of a different cat every day as requested I did not receive. She did try to pass off the same cat photo two days in a row but stated it was so hot there I withdrew my request. Alas, she returned with treats and I had to message her that I was on the floor and that I would find someone and dispatch them to bring her upstairs.
If you are new here, pre-Covid I had created a social media page to build community to help each other who are living in this apartment complex. Living in an apartment complex allows people to hide, it seems to encourage hiding unsocial practices because poor recycling habits and dumping broken furniture can be kept hidden and those that do these things can avoid reproach. This group allowed me to message a neighbour to ask her mum to come down. She is a very slim, petite Yah-Yah and has enough arthritic issues as is. While I know she will hover really concerned I know she feels helpless and concerned. I give her some busy work and she puts my milk back in the fridge. I message another neighbour, a couple who were returning from Pilates. Yah, Yah went next door to grab that neighbour. She was asleep having been home from night shift as a nurse but her sister also a nurse came to assist. I was able to wriggle to the bedroom (equally tight spot beside my bed) this brought back Flashbacks to the OT who had assessed my home as having too much clutter. My then-carer Joshie (she shall be called!) laughed when I reported this. I queried why she laughed? She had confessed she had the same amount of “clutter” against walls as we both have stuff and never enough space. At least my clutter was normalised. Meanwhile, even while lying on the floor beside my bed I lifted the clutter to put it on the bed, at least it was out of my way.
The angle under my bed and I stated, “there’s a pack of toilet rolls hidden under here!” More help arrived and having given up on getting up onto my knees and engaging my unemployed “core” to be more upright. I rolled to sit on my backside. I directed the only male in attendance to move behind me and after I disclosed how heavy I actually am (I’m just saying I weigh more than a feather and if someone’s about to lift me they need to know this) I don’t know why, but there is always something comforting about a Nurse taking your hand and telling you they are about to grab you by the waist-band of your pants and that it will only be uncomfortable for a moment. Thank Christ for weekend baggy tracksuit pants I say, or I would have had a wedgy.
The first person I hugged was the Yah-Yah, and I reassured her she had been of great help. I also reminded her, had she attempted to get me up I would have crushed her and she would have been found days later having expired. I don’t weigh so much, I’ll be getting my on-TV show, but I make this joke every time because despite how serious it all gets, it’s a great stress reliever.
On days I’m home, I often only put shoes on when I go out onto my balcony, but I’ll leave them on until late when I go off to bed, just to avoid slipping over. At one point before help came Mika (my cat) decided to come past, while my fall can be credited to socks on timber floor without shoes, Mika came towards me and one of her back legs went out from under her. So, it’s not just me. While sitting on the floor I also discovered a nice lump coming up on my chin. Never let it be said “Helen only ever does things by halves” I’m going to have a fun bruise on my chin and down the left side of my face I can’t wait to explain away this week.
I’m already trying a few out “this is not the result of day shit date gone wrong!” Full dark Yes! Or “I took it on the chin!” That is terrible, but I see myself saying it a lot this week. Or “I really did fall!” Here is a nice photo of my chin. Excuse the view up my nose.
One last mention to my Sunday carer that put a leave-in moisturizing treatment in my hair before putting it back up. Even with the fall, it didn’t move It’s not the best way to test if my bun is secured but here, we are. Shout out to her.
Also, a sadness to let go of the group I created for this building. My departure is imminent as the affordable rent I have appreciated for now seven years coming to an end soon. More of this to follow soon. Wow, it is 2am and I think time for bed, I have already secured my first of two-chiro appointment’s. Hope everyone has a good week. Note, not a question.
Dear Neighbours, just asking if my music is too loud? I’m in the West Building on the 2nd floor overlooking the street. If you did wonder when I bought the home theatre system? A young Asian guy from Marketplace at the start of the Covid Pandemic.
It did create the perfect opportunity to get the amp I needed to allow me to play my CD’s. It was the only component I needed to complete my home tech set-up.
The Asian students that live in Melbourne for study making a mass exodus because the Aussies don’t know how to wear masks, cos we really don’t.
The young guy upon my query of the home theatre would be too loud for my apartment and would peel the paint off the walls? It’s the rule of thumb I have for volume. He told me it would be, but I could just not play everything loud. As if.
One good thing for the pandemic? It created a false economy where I could get the things I couldn’t afford at any other time. Oh, wait, my bad.
Meanwhile, I digress, pre-the Plague I started a group on Facebook for the building. I had wanted to create community because living in an apartment is easy to never see your neighbours and if you are isolated it’s impossible to know who are your good neighbours.
So, my CD Player holds five and it’s just hit the pre-2000’s N.I.N.’s part of the current selection. It’s great in headphones at the gym. But my neighbours probably won’t like it any more than my mum did when I lived with her around 2000.
I guess, the neighbours can message me their complaints. Wingdings will be the only font I will accept.
We think money makes the world go around, but I think EGGS can build a community.
A carer started buying me eggs, I would get a tray of thirty farm fresh eggs for $14.00, then I would give a dozen of them to my masseuse as I don’t otherwise pay her.
I have other ways to pay her which I think she appreciates. The carer who would bring me the eggs had a collection of egg cartons. I started decorating them with a thick black texta in the hope that other people would join in. Add to the drawings, answer the question and posted inside by announcing what they intended to make with the eggs.
Mine stated “Destined to be Carrot Cake or Omelette or Bread and Butter Pudding” (Which needs eight eggs)
After a time, I found my own supplier which was two less things for this carer to do for me in her own time. I do like to be self-sufficient, but my contact has trays of twenty eggs for the same amount ($14). And again, free range and ‘Picked’ that day at 4am.
You should realize eggs don’t grow on trees, but are laid. The eggs are rather big, 800g and ‘twins’ or double yolkers are plentiful.
The issue is, I need to order two trays for my egg guy to deliver for free.
So, I asked around my neighbours and my ‘people’. My first order was two trays, one for me, one for a neighbour. My second order was five trays.
And this is how I’ve been trying to create a community.
Now, you may ask, did we ever work out who this neighbourhood passive/aggressive carpark stealer was? With the red Barina and the nickname for a company on the side?
Why yes, we did and I worked it out because I’m the cluey one in the house at the time. The following conversation I had with B is why I loved sharing with him.
I didn’t think of the name, but I knew he would tell me if I prompted him, this is how the conversation went.
“What’s the name of the women’s shoes?”
I know that didn’t actually help much and he answered as any self-respecting straight man would.
“I’m not good with women’s shoe brands.”
Turns out that was a lie.
“What are those shoes that German/Lesbian backpacker tourists wear?”
Before you get all OMG Helen, you didn’t. He replied swiftly.
“Oh, Birkenstocks.”
Yes. Oh, we laughed.
We had neighbours who were German (No offense) they had a house next door that was originally two houses, they bought that, had been renovated to make a bigger house. Eventually, after we moved out and our house was sold, they bought it and renovated it after four years and merged it into theirs.
They had family live out here for six months every year to be with their family. Ok, that’s done. Now the reason I had to give you that context?
When I was a kid, well teenager, also had a bedroom along the side of our house. My sister had a bedroom with a view of the backyard.
Yes, this is a second child syndrome moment because, it is what it is.
My view was of a grey fence that actually also had racks added so my dad could store his extra timber, metal and god knows what else. Like the double garage wasn’t big enough.
The neighbours loved to work late into the night over the fence in their carport on their cars. So, bright lights and late nights aplenty.
I recall a brief time, my older sister and I slept in a caravan behind our Aunt’s house, mum and dad were on a mattress in their big back room. My parents were building the house I grew up in. I lived in that house until I was nineteen.
In that bedroom that was view-less, having moved out of home to move to Melbourne to be a poor art student. I’ve moved many times. Have I counted? Yes. I’ve got to find my list. Then add a few places to it. But I hate moving and I finally have a reasonable view.
Ok, now I can see other people on their balconies and other apartments. But I have a view.
Definitely time to throw in a post about apartment living. Late 2017 I moved into an apartment. It’s my fourth move since my diagnosis back in 2007. While I’ve not done any big distances between each place I’ve lived, this is the most ‘new-build’ I’ve ever been in. The last place was a unit, my address was Unit 1 at 111. No really, it was a great number to live in. It was only two minutes drive from where I now reside. That move was prompted by ‘sleazy’ landlord concerns. Because he just didn’t get it, he could not put his hands ‘ON’ me and tell me he loved me and wanted to have sex with me.
Did you, just throw up a little in your mouth? Exactly! So, I digress, apologies.
Apartment Living.
I have a carer every morning, maybe only for an hour, to an hour and a half and I keep them busy with tasks while I’m in the shower, doing a few dishes, putting buckets of water out on the balcony for my plants or taking down my rubbish and recycling. On Sunday morning my carer came into the bathroom and I polished a circle near my face on the shower screen door, so she could see my face.
This is what I said to her; “While you were out, I TOOK a call from S blocks that way. Stop slamming the door” She asked if I’d really received a call?
The apartment doors are rather heavy, I guess it’s for good security and sound proofing. I can’t hear what’s happening next door. Well, they might hear me, but my surround sound died, so it may no longer be an issue for them. But I often hear laughing and people running past my door to the lift and I really wish they would stop.
It’s noisy, but quiet, it’s a very odd contradiction, so I shall need to explain. When I moved into my apartment (I rent) over a year ago, I was concerned about if it would be noisy or smelly or if I would never see my neighbours.
Once you are inside your apartment, you can’t really hear loud TV’s or dogs barking or loud thumping music from your neighbours. Once you close the heavy front door, you don’t hear anything from your neighbours. I sometimes hear people race past my front door to get to theirs or heading to the lift.
Sometimes if I’m heading to the lift and hear a door slam behind me, I’ll hold the lift door for anyone behind me. Then we proceed to have a brief awkward conversation about good timing and never seeing anyone else. So, yes I rarely see anybody from my floor.
I’m in an apartment block on a very busy corner. There is a main street where at my corner it forks off in a slightly north/eastern direction on the tram line and at the middle of the ‘bits’ (not sure how to best describe this) there is a pub. Across the street are more apartments. In my block, we are six storeys and across the street they are even higher.
The noise from the traffic, the trams, the pub. It’s ridiculous, the cars and motorcycles, the service vehicles, I can’t tell anymore, is it an ambulance, police car? I hear several of those every day.
One morning my carer arrived after I’d woken early and attempted to get back to sleep. An alarm of some kind had started and been going for about twenty minutes. My carer was with me for about ninety minutes. You tune it out after a while and the silence between seem to get a little longer and we looked at each other. Hopeful? Did it stop? No! Damn it!
I heard noises before, but never been able to workout where it was coming from or what it was to alert us to. I presume it was the apartment building across the street. I don’t know what it’s to alert or for what. If I could call someone, I wold but who would that be? If that person knew already, why weren’t they doing something about it?
My carer left and ten minutes later after a migraine had set in and taken hold, it stopped. Posing the question, WHY? And of course, can it stop?
Oh, that was pretty terse right? Just wondering as I’m contemplating having to move again after four years at 1/111, I know, seriously. When I moved here it was obviously destined that my life should be all about me. Living by myself.
Not prioritising anything of myself or my money to another, but not my point today. If I move, how long do I need to wait before I start blasting out my tunes at a level to piss off my neighbours?
I mean, I have the doors and windows open as I love fresh air and music always makes me happy and motivates me and it’s probably not great that my neighbours have a baby, but they deserve no remorse as they think it’s acceptable to use their washer and dryer overnight and when it’s 40 degrees outside and they have the mistaken belief that they are hippies. WFT!
But seriously, I don’t play my music loud enough to tear paint off the walls, but I generally play some loud music within a week of moving, so my new neighbours aren’t lulled into a false sense of security.
When I moved here, I heard some KLF from the back unit, only the once, sadly but still they didn’t play any Bitchy Sneers! (you heard me) or Mariah Carey, so we were all good. They had a DJ Club set up though so, it was any wonder after I moved in. They are not music people so I told them I would ‘TRY HARDER’.
Oh, what’s that you wanted to know, what I’m listening to? OK, you may not recognise any of these but, a little VNV Nation, Covenent, Apoptygma Beserk and some The Knife. Oh, don’t forget Nine Inch Nails and some Assemblage 23.
Oh, lastly whoever took my Apoptygma Beserk T-shirt with ¾ length sleeves with the red body and black sleeves, I WANT IT BACK.
A brief Hot off the press moment! Unit 2 have left the building! A huge truck was in the driveway this morning……I am sure the truck might have been half empty. (Unit 2 is smaller than units 1 and 3)
You may recall, I didn’t hate the tenants in unit 2, I just intensely didn’t like them?
Ironically, the energy is different already.
I attempted to bring you a different …….foodie offering.
But it hasn’t happened.
Today, is a different Arancini. This has pumpkin and spinach. Still with the side salad.
And the medicine, might need two today. Feeling like a zombie.
It’s a nice day today in Melbourne. I’m hoping I don’t regret wearing my merino wool cowl neck vest over long sleeves. I just wasn’t ready to go full scooter t-shirt! (yes, I have one!)
To be continued………
Birkies – Part 2
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 