Perhaps it’ll get my writing mojo back … you know, change of scenery, getting away from the neighbour’s death threats, etc.
Yeah, if you’d managed to log in a couple of days ago, you may have noticed a brief flash of a post where I wrote, in a huff, about my interaction with our neighbour. I also took the opportunity to slag the cops for their assistance in helping the same potentially homicidal neighbour to definitely identify who called the police on him.
Safe to say I was pissed, and rightly so, but I decided that that was no mood to get back into TCLing shape. And neither is the environment, including the drug-dealing, pimping, life-threatening neighbour.
To be honest, I’ve been living in this Allan Gardens neighborhood for a bit too long now. It’s nice enough, if you can get past the crack dealers, hookers, and the down-and-out folks clutching to whatever precarious sanity they have, but I’m getting a bit bored with it all. The gunshots and sirens are becoming pedestrian, dahling.
Plus, Sarah’s in a wheelchair and that makes walking up and downstairs a tad challenging. Actually, I do the walking, she does the terrified clinging as I try to power us both on a single set of legs. Good workout though.
Nevertheless, we’re looking to change the scenery up a bit. Maybe the west end, around High Park. Maybe.
Communicating with the landlord there has been kinda spotty and getting an appointment kinda like waiting for the second coming of Christ. I finally broke down after two weeks of email silence and rummaged through the internet for his number. I got a lot of “um” and “aw”, but we finally secured a looksee in a few days. Hopefully it won’t be rented out from under us, like a unit we were going to see on Wellesley Street (the rental agreement was signed while we waiting in the lobby for our turn to see the place).
We’ve also looked around on Broadview Avenue…lovely stretch of road looking over the Don Valley and the skyline, and within spitting distance of downtown. The nice places have a waiting list that would require us to murder someone in order to get a chance, and the not so nice places are, well, not so nice.
One had a main lobby that was leaking profusely as we walked in. The superintendent who was showing us the apartment shrugged it off by saying, “yeah, it’s been like that for a while.” The ceiling in front of the apartment door had caved in and exposed cables were hanging down. The walls were beaten up not unlike, I imagine, a maximum security penitentiary (complete with streaks of what I’m sure was human blood).
The second unit we saw, one building over, was surprisingly worse. The elevator, a wonderful throwback to the 70s (actually from that era, I believe, and not serviced since then either), was dank and stank with dog urine. The apartment overlooked a fenced-in yard which, once again, was very penitentiary-like.
So these were, unfortunately, a no-go. And ridiculously pricey for the living horrors that they were. We’re hoping that the west end will be better, but for now we’re just trying to keep from getting stabbed on our own landing.