Homeowner wins & woes

Goodness, I'm a bad little blogger.  Here we go again. I haven't posted since January--nine months ago.  Can a person even call himself a blogger if he only posts a few times a year?  Eh, who cares, right?!  It's not like I'm getting paid to do this--and, for what it's worth, I don't consider myself a real blogger anyway.  Fortunately, despite my abysmally casual commitment to this blogging hobby which borders on abandonment (with parental visits just frequent enough to avoid the tragedy of forgetting altogether), my last post really caused a stir, bringing decent-hearted human specimens from varying walks of life together under the banner of common experience--and all because of a miserable ass who enjoys attacking other people through craigslist.  Who'd have thought?!

Turtles in Central Park, New York City, August 2012.  (Photo by Michael Jehn.)

Over the past nine months, I've received numerous responses from fellow craigslist patrons who have, through no act of malice, misspoken word or knowing crime, incurred the wrath of crenovationsllc@gmail.com (whose real name, mailing address, phone number, and other juicy personal tidbits were provided by individuals who kindly responded to my January post).  I won't provoke or indulge Mr. Dan Hobbins of Gibsonia, Pennsylvania further--since I've already stooped pretty low by now--except to say:

Mr. Hobbins, I'd love to share your fruitful wisdom, your razor-sharp insight, right here on my humble blog. Please, grace us with your staggering intellectual presence, under your own name, in your own earnest and completely uncensored words.  You are welcome any time--but only if you stand behind your true identity. 

(Somehow I don't think he'll show...)

Anyway, enough with the facetiousness and on to some real news. I've called this post 'homeowner wins & woes' because I'd like to share a few of each with the world.  I'll start with a win.  The foyer flooring--a handsome dark manufactured bamboo product with a pitted, antiqued surface texture that complements the existing wood paneling and stair railings beautifully--has been installed, thanks to a lot of hard work by Mr. Matt Crowe. Sure, there were some woes associated with the win.  The bamboo wasn't my first choice for material, but the stuff I really wanted wasn't in stock at Lumber Liquidators and would have taken two months to arrive on order.  The foyer sub-floor was so uneven, the walls so untrue (i.e., not straight and precisely aligned, as opposed to "not really walls" or "walls that are lying") that we didn't get the first piece down until late afternoon on the second day.  Of course, the bamboo is so dense and solid that many of the hand-hammered nails wouldn't go in even after pilot holes had been drilled--and the nail gun simply kept splitting the tongues on the boards.  Frustration...but not defeat.

Fortunately, one new nail gun and two weeks later, the floor was complete: shiny and new (DUM, DUM, DUM--like a virgin...), glassy in its perfection, complemented by new quarter-round shoe moldings, doorway thresholds, and a brand-new $115 cast iron register grate from Signature Hardware to replace the existing one that had been so grievously molested by time and moisture that it might as well have been recovered from the wreck of the Titanic.  A final minor woe regarding the floor: every speck of dust, every tiny scratch, stands out instantly against such a dark patina.  Luckily I'm a cleaning freak.

In addition to the flooring, the foyer walls leading all the way up the stairs to the second floor have been completely repainted in a warm, inviting yellow tone called Caribbean Sunrise (win), although the amount of pre-painting plaster repair necessary was unbelievable (woe) and painting itself, especially above the stairs and the stained glass window--where I teetered precariously on an old chair resting atop a haphazard pile of furring strips and plywood scraps stretched between the second stair landing and the top rung of a ladder (disaster waiting to happen but thankfully avoided)--was a total bitch (woe).  The heinous old mini-fridge-sized air conditioner in the foyer window that I couldn't even use because its plug doesn't fit standard outlets is gone (win) and my metal scrap-collecting neighbor Dave helped me get it out of the window and took it for me so I didn't even have to worry about how to dispose of it (win) and the tacky-as-sin paneling that had been hammered in above the air conditioner is gone (win) and, miraculously, the original double-hung sash window was hiding inside (win) and is in terrific shape!

Furthermore, my mom--who is awesome--found very cheap, very hip curtains for both the entryway window and the living room window that perfectly fit the mid-century modern look that I'm going for (win).  By the end of the year, I should have the rest of the stair treads painted and the two landings professionally carpeted; the second-floor hallway floorboards will finally be painted within the next month; the master bedroom on the second floor will be remodeled by mid-December including drywall and carpeting; and, with any luck, I'll be getting a new front porch in the spring.  (Matthew Johnston, if you're reading this, please let me know whether or not you still want the job; it's been a while since I've heard from you!)

I will end with one last, but lingering, woe: I've been having a lot of trouble getting rid of one of my tenants.  Call him whatever you'd like--Stefan, Sylvester, Simon or Salvatore--since I'm not going to reveal his actual name on the Internet.  The guy's got a lot of serious issues that I had not anticipated and am not professionally equipped to deal with: chronic hoarding, poor hygiene, and a manner of aloof passivity that I didn't even think was possible.  He's so unassertive, so lacking in proactive initiative or self-defense--of ideas, personal needs, or opinions, I mean--, that I've wanted to scream out loud on countless occasions.  I was a fool for having allowed him to move in at all, my judgement blinded by the prospect of quick, easy rent money; for this I accept full responsibility.  Per our original verbal agreement, pursuant to the lease, he was supposed to have been vacated by the end of September; but, as I should have expected, he managed to completely avoid moving out, and naturally he failed to communicate any concerns or unexpected snags to me ahead of time (lack of communication being another one of his issues).  I granted him another full month.  He didn't move out--and then the trashy wet week-long misery delivered by superstorm Sandy created a scenario in which I wouldn't have wanted people trudging into and out of my house repeatedly anyway, tracking leaves and mud everywhere.

So, my tenant has until November 15th, and that's final.  No more excuses, no more bullshit, no more house projects delayed by his frustrating ineptitude.  If he attempts to linger for one more day, he will encounter a front door whose lock has been changed upon return.  On the bright side, at least he's a harmless soul who wouldn't intentionally harm another breathing creature--or, for that matter, likely utter a profane word--if a gun were pressed to his temple.  I wish him joy, prosperity, and fulfillment in all his future endeavors, and openly acknowledge that he is probably a better person than I shall ever hope to become; but I also want him the hell out of my place.  Is that so much to ask for?!

One57 luxury apartment and condominium tower under construction in midtown Manhattan, August 2012. (Photo by Michael Jehn.)  The construction crane visible in the photo was badly damaged by Hurricane Sandy.

Stupidity: when it comes to people, you can count on it!

People are really damned stupid. Not you, of course. Not everyone. Just...a lot of people. Give stupid people a forum for unbridled self-expression like the Internet and their stupidity--manifest in the form of irredeemably idiotic blog rants, self-incriminating photographs, belligerent discussion board personas, relentless strings of unrestrained typo-laden Tweets, less-than-pointless YouTube clips, you name it--will flourish like bacteria on the floor of an Interstate rest stop bathroom (especially during those frantically busy holiday travel periods when the janitors can't get in there often enough to push stinky pink bleachy bacteria-murdering stuff around with the mop). For the record, I will attempt to demonstrate here and now that this is not an irredeemably idiotic blog rant; but that's ultimately for you to decide, not me.

Anyway, I would like to share a recent instance of incredible--yet sadly typical--human stupidity with you. No, I'm not referring to the capsizing of the Costa Concordia cruise liner off the Italian coast. That was certainly stupid, avoidable, tragic--which is nothing to say of the captain's criminal egotism or staggering cowardice--, but that story is not my own. No, my story is about linoleum flooring. Specifically, it's about my attempts to recycle some old linoleum flooring from my house for artistic purposes by offering it for free on Craig's List. That act in particular is not the stupid part, but let me explain.

Last week, after months of procrastination, I finally got around to downloading about 400 images from my digital camera to my computer. Among these were photographs of the linoleum flooring that decades ago had graced one of the bedrooms in my house--a bedroom that had clearly once been a nursery or baby's room before it was carpeted and turned into Mrs. Brown's dressing room, complete with an enormous vanity and the most gratuitously large collection of [mostly unused] makeup products that I have ever seen outside of a department store. Here are a few photos of what I like to refer to as the creepy nursery flooring:

Here's another photo that illustrates some of the other cute figures that appear in the flooring, like kittens and chickens (on wheels?!), rabbits and piggy banks, even a camel:

I knew that the flooring wasn't in fantastic shape; but it's certainly unique, rare, slightly endearing, definitely amusing--and a potential goldmine for artists who use such materials. Thus, I posted on Craig's List, as I have done on many occasions before, this time offering any and all of this linoleum flooring for free to anyone of creative persuasion willing to stop by and check it out.

One of the first individuals to respond said this (and only this): "some of that old flooring was made with aspestas."  Okay... Appreciate the warning, but, um, that's not even how you spell "asbestos." Granted, I could have been a snarky shit by responding to that effect but I simply thanked this person for the concern and forgot about it.

Now, here's where the stupid comes in. The very next day I received this response to my earnest attempt at freecycling from the faceless dunce hiding behind the e-mail address crenovationsllc@gmail.com: 

LOL !  You must be drunk ! IT"S GARBAGE ! Where do you drunken nuts come from ?  Did it ever occur to you that the" VINTAGE" linoleum has "VINTAGE" asbestos in it?

Okay, stupid! I thought to myself. You wanna show the world how unequivocally stupid YOU are by attempting to make a fairly smart person feel stupid?! Think you can get away with jabbing an honest gent who happens to enjoy a good stiff drink now and again? HUH?!  And this is how I responded:

Drunk?!  Occasionally, absolutely, but not when I posted (to the best of my knowledge...) and certainly not right now.

Honestly, what was the point of your responding to my post if your only accomplishment was to sound like an ignoramus fuck?  Why do you think that I'm giving this stuff away as opposed to trying to sell it?  Clearly you're not familiar with the fact that some people actually use this material for art.

www.billmillerart.com

If even one person can or will use this linoleum to create something funky, unique, beautiful or inspiring, why NOT give it away as opposed to tossing it in the trash?  One last thing: asbestos is only dangerous when large quantities of it are inhaled in airborne particulate form.  Working with materials that contain asbestos can be done safely as long as one protects oneself from airborne particles--especially when those materials aren't known to crumble into clouds of fine dust.

Do a little research before trying to sour perfect strangers' evenings with your abusive ignorance, chap.  In plain English, get a fucking life.

So there you have it. I never heard back from the prick, in case you were wondering. Maybe the universe afforded him a moment of clarity just potent enough to recognize that he, in fact, was incorrect about something. But probably not. In all likelihood my response was deleted without ever having been read. You know, my mom was right years ago when, during any one of a number of arguments, she would rhetorically remark You always have to have the last word, don't you? DON'T you?! Yes, mom, and I still do.

Before I finish, I would like to share one final example of stupidity--or whatever you want to call it--that I have encountered perhaps half a dozen times in the past few weeks. Perhaps you've seen it yourself:

The day that I first encountered--and subsequently screen-captured--this particular web artifact, I was enjoying an uneventful music-supplemented morning at work doing something or other on the computer. (At that very moment, as you can tell, I was listening to songs by Pink Floyd's David Gilmour--one of the best guitarists of all time--on YouTube.) So, you ask, what qualifies this as an example of stupidity? The claim, boldly splashed across the top of the image like a front page newspaper headline, that Jesus Christ is Lord? No, certainly not. Lots of people believe that Jesus Christ is Lord. The fact that an online Christian dating service is trying to seduce me and thousands of other unsuspecting viewers with an image of a generic bleach-blond Barbie slut who, for all I know, could boast a laundry list of mastered (and commercially available) filthy acts that would put poor Mary Magdalene to shame? BINGO! I can think of some other things to call it, too: shamelessly desperate. Tacky. Sad. 

* * *

Oh, and to the blond girl in the image: I'm sorry for the things I said. You're probably a very nice girl. I just hope that that particular shot of you doesn't appear in your high school yearbook anywhere. Or as your Facebook profile photo.