I realize my New Du II is 100,000,000 years old, I do. But I don't think it's too much to ask to have everything working at the same time. Air conditioner, refrigerator, and no pests. This is all I need. I will clean the house. I will get someone to clean up the shrubbery in the front yard. I will handle the aesthetics of it. Management office is going to have to handle the mechanics. Because if I have to start hiring people, my rent's going to get a whole lot cheaper. My newest fear is that I will complain so much, the owner of the New Du II will be all "shit, it's cheaper to just tear it down than to continually make repairs."
A quick story of awesome: I worked out with a trainer yesterday. I am in shape and all that, but I may have plateaued in yoga, and he's super-cute so I jumped at the chance to spend an hour sweaty with him. We made a deal: I'd do his workout, he'd do my class. Actually, what he said was "I'll do your circuit if you do mine." I don't have a circuit. I just talk people through poses, working through their breath. But again, allow me to reiterate: Super. Cute. We made an appointment for 10:30 am Tuesday.
I arrived Tuesday morning. He told me what his plan was. We decided to be extremely cautious with my knee, which he re-wrapped for me. So, we were doing medicine ball squats. And by "we", I mean "I". He was drinking a protein shake. So, in this squat, you touch your butt to a medicine ball while reaching up towards the horizon. Then you squeeze and press your arms down and stand up straight. It sounds simple enough. Until there's a trainer involved, and he's holding a curtain rod inches in front of your knees. If your knees hit the bar, you're overextending them. Also, you're supposed to be really squeezing your glutes and abs as you come up. So, Super-Cute has the pole, and he's doing the trainer encouragement thing, telling me "Squeeze! Squeeze harder! Harder!" And I'm telling Super-Cute that I am squeezing when it happened. As I was obeying his "harder! harder!" directions, I ripped one. Not an over the top stinky silent fart. But a distinct *phbrrt*. See, I was squeezing.
So, now I can never make eye contact with Super-Cute again.