Rant

I don’t know who needs to hear this?

From my series, I don’t know who, but somebody needs to hear this and if it’s not you please forward this to the person you know that does. I live in an apartment these days like many people that cannot afford to live in a free-standing house.

I give people my address so, For example: 123/456 Blah Blah Road, Suburb. Now, obviously Blah Blah is not a real name. I am not in a creative mood, clearly.

Next the first digits, in this case “123” is the apartment number. NOT THE STREET ADDRESS. The other number. “456” IS THE STREET ADDRESS. So, most importantly, if you don’t know this, don’t suggest I gave you the wrong details. If you didn’t know you could have asked? I won’t agree with you calling yourself an idiot, just admit you got it wrong.

I don’t understand people making it someone else’s fault rather than admit they got something wrong, don’t do that.

Rant over.

It’s been a tough day/week/month/year and people’ing is getting on my one last nerve.

rant-2

Rant!

OK, I need to rant! Here are some classic examples of what totally shits me about Public Housing.

I don’t have it! To be fair I don’t want it! But I need it.
There are young perfectly able bodied people who could work, but don’t and they only pay A$80.00 per week. Government Housing is calculated by your income. It’s generally only 26%.

About 5 years ago, I lived opposite some Public Housing, it was only a two story building and all flats. Very 60’s and on some nights the residents provided some light entertainment and other times not so.

Here are some examples;

There was this lovely 70-year-old Chinese lady who I used to donate my compost bin to (not a very good compost bin, but all organic and very smelly all the same) and that woman had the energy of a 50-year old. Every year when the pot she gave me ‘flowers’. I think fondly of her.

Then there was the ‘other’ Chinese lady who at one point I think her daughter stayed with her. She had a red Carerra Porsche. But one morning there was a loud noise and when I went outside I saw a tow truck loading said Carerra onto it and departing. I imagine it was repossessed.

porsche

Then there was an enviable vegie patch in the front single dad had planted. I also gave him some of the compost.

Then there was the night when I could hear a woman’s voice calling out over the upstairs balcony “Help! Please somebody!” Over and over again!

crying-for-help

After a short time and peeking through the blinds of the front bedroom. I lived in a single story terrace back then. I found a woman on the top floor balcony calling out while someone else was attempting to ‘move them out like Rock-stars!’ (that’s when you just throw everything out over the balcony)

I rang the Police! The woman’s cries for rescue took some time to abate.

When I rang the Police, I couldn’t give the exact address for across the street so I gave mine with the

express instructions not to knock on my door.

I had only just moved in and didn’t want to make enemies, but also didn’t want anyone to suffer abuse.

Disaster! The Police put a spotlight on the front of my home and a Policeman came to my door! WFT! Subtle? Epic fail.

I had also just had my treatment and I went to the door with NO HAIR! Very self-conscious, I peeked around from behind the door. Mr Plod’s clearly thought I was timid and hiding. Mr Plod’s clearly had sent Mrs Plod’s up to deal with the domestic.

I know my first comment is not supported by the rest of my points however, as you can imagine this subject is never closed. Next!

rant-over