Monday, January 31, 2011


It is Sunday evening, 8:38PM and I am irritated. How much effort will it take to move the radio from the kitchen where I have it set on a tall stool I found discarded on sidewalk. Set on high stool because the plug would not reach it any other way. Both sets of kitchen outlets are 5' from the floor. When I moved into this apartment I had to go right out to a store to buy an adapter. Refrigerator plug would not reach the outlet. Did the man who lived here before me not use the 'frig. Like me, I am sure he did not have gas or use the stove/oven.

Reason I wonder is it seems common logic that an owner would provide an extension safe cord in order for renter to plug in 'frig on move-in day. Need to move radio into great room, place in on windowsill, to drown out Chris' voice. Anticipating having to move it back to the kitchen when John's music starts irritating me. He does have it on, music or TV, but barely can hear it when going into kitchen or bathroom. Maybe he got a message due to me blaring the radio, as close to our adjoining walls as I could get it.

Too loud for me, even tho' I am in great room, especially the annoying repeated weight loss ads. I would lower it when I went to bed, checking to ensure it was covering up the drone of John's sounds. LOL then the drone of my own music was irritating me! Had to increase the volume a tad bit, hoping for slow, smooth jazz, all music. I used to fall to sleep every night listening to "the WAVE after dark" yet now it seems they play less of the soothing jazz and some of the songs are not sleep inducing. Yeah, I like "ain't no stopping us now, we're on the move...", but do not care to hear it at bedtime, nor fifty times a day.

Now, it is not late, Chris' voice is not overly loud, yet I am fuming. As posted, or did I post it, all those yesterdays piling up about to drive me insane. Not the grain of sand, the mountain of sand that is burying me.

I was happily writing posts about the Furnace Room, when I started the slow burn, got up, paced to kitchen and back, pondering on moving the radio. Anticipation. Maybe John will leave his volume down and I will be able to turn off radio at bedtime. Such problems, as my mother used to say.

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