The Weekend ~ Apartment living: The community of snores and asbestos

15 years since I lived in an apartment. And here I am. There is an odd community that develops when you arise to your neighbor’s alarm; the laundry door jams across the hall, in the awareness of comings and goings.

I have not had a man in my life for years. There is a young couple who live above me. He snores. I keep wondering if she has mastered control, as I once had with Hubbie2, simply barking his name as he snorted to a close or rolled over without waking. I suspect they are newlyweds. The technique doesn’t seem to be there or she’s a very solid sleeper. I am not and some nights lie awake wishing for my own companion to nudge.

There is a man in my building that may be one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. I suspect he’s married. Why? He’s too beautiful not to be. The PRPSA and I were heading to my car around the back entrance when he entered the back door of the building. We both instinctively followed him in. He went up the stairs we walked to my unit.

Once inside we stared at one another. We had been completely gob smacked. We followed him like the Pied Piper-no intention of coming inside. Yet there we stood laughing at our folly. PRPSA and DT² have been devising elaborate plots to go door to door and find him. Something about a black tie and impersonated a Jehovah’s Witness or survey/poll taking.

My new building is old. I love it, feels European, rounded arches, old cabinets and 40’s tile in the bath. But with the wood floors comes the sounds of my neighbor’s footsteps above my head, mumbled echoes of conversations. I can hear when they run their portable dishwasher.

With the morning alarm clocks I doubt I’ll ever be late, unless someone takes a day off work. And if the neighbors have taken the first shower I don’t have to let the water run as long to produce hot water. This is a bonus. As I said an odd comfort in community- I know more than I should about them.

I find I feel less alone. And this is a good thing for me now. I am so glad I moved into my apartment. I hope I can stay.

See the apartment comes with exposed pipes overhead and along the outside wall. They are wrapped with insulation. My parents came by my new digs with a dresser they were giving me and asked if the insulation was asbestos. My Dad’s best friend recently died from Asbestos caused lung cancer.

I put the question to the building manager. Who in turn asked the Landlord. The response was in essence “don’t know, don’t care”. They had no intention of testing it or disturbing it in anyway. And if I wanted, they would let me out of my lease.

Now I have a dilemma. I love my apartment. But my health is fragile. The lump in my lung still being tracked to make sure my kidney cancer hasn’t migrated. I can’t afford to sleep under possible asbestos.

But I don’t want to move. I want the quirks, the noise, the company late at night. I want to stay.

So I will have to pay to have it tested. Figure out what my options are and possibly move. Ugh! This is all inconvenient as I have the cable company coming to hook up my service on Saturday. It is time the universe give me a break. I know, perhaps a dinner date with my handsome neighbor, if he is single of course.

Blast from This Blogs Past

The Weekend Reading List

Something Extra

7 thoughts on “The Weekend ~ Apartment living: The community of snores and asbestos

  1. Is there not a governmental agency that you call? I don’t know… a housing authority? Does your city have a citizens’ information number?

    A quick search of the net came up with this site and this info…
    hope it helps:


    Ask your landlord if there is asbestos in the home. Until the 1970s, many types of building products and insulation materials used in homes contained asbestos. The material may or may not pose a health hazard, depending on its condition, and should always be removed by a professional. Landlords are required to disclose the presence of asbestos that is in an unsafe condition. Click here for more information on asbestos in the home.

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