apartment

Waking up in a hospital alvin November 24, 2017 - 9:34am

I wake up at 3:40am, hearing something dripping. I follow the sound around the new apartment until I find that it’s coming from the refrigerator. Looking around, I don’t see any water on the floor, inside the refrigerator compartment, or in the freezer. My guess is that this is what it sounds like when it defrosts. I have a sip of water and go back to bed.

I wake up some time later. It’s bright, so I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m enjoying a comfortable rest, and the pillow and sheets smell fresh and clean.

Wait.

Why is it so bright? I haven’t been here long, but I know that the Sun rises on the other side of the building, and my bedroom only get indirect light in the morning.

Without moving my body, I open my eyes and look around. I see enough to know that I’m in a hospital.

Two hotels and an apartment alvin October 8, 2017 - 10:07am

On this day a few years ago, when I first moved to Colorado, I was living in two hotels and an apartment, a by-product of moving here from Alaska, with all of my belongings in my car. (Little did I know it, but I would move again a month later.)

A summer story of neighbors in Wasilla, Alaska

Dateline: July 27, 2010, Wasilla, Alaska.

“It looks like she passed away around 4:30,” Al said, holding his neighbor’s just-deceased cat, and looking at the clock on the wall.

“No,” Neighbor #1 replies, wiping her eyes with her kleenex. “That clock doesn’t work. It’s almost 8:30.”

“Oh,” says Al, looking out the window of the second-floor apartment and seeing what appears to be afternoon light in the treetops. Funny how the Alaskan summer sun still throws the perception of time out of balance.

“Can you give us a ride to the hospital? My wife just cut her finger open,” yells unemployed car-less Neighbor #2, suddenly appearing at the open front door. His wife screams from somewhere down below. Neighbor #3, a former police deputy, instinctively gets up to help, but Neighbor #4 says, “I’ve got this one,” and hops off the couch and out the door behind #2. He looks comfortable in his shorts and t-shirt in the mid-40s temperature, as Al shivers.

As they run out the door, Neighbor #5, just home from her job at Carr’s, stands in the doorway, looks around, sees three neighbors and a dead cat in the apartment next to hers, and doesn’t seem to know what she should say or do ...

Why are you here? (Talkeetna, Alaska) alvin March 22, 2017 - 4:33pm

When I first moved to Talkeetna, I sat down to sign the lease with my new landlord. The conversation went like this:

Her: So, why are you moving to Alaska ... hunter?

Me: No.

Fisherman?

No.

*pause*

Right-wing nut job?

No.

*pause*

You’re not here to write stories about the town for tv shows, like those Northern Exposure people, are you?

*she starts taking off her shirt, which I eventually realize is so that she can breast-feed her baby*

Um ... no.

Why are you here?

In a lucid dream last night I knew I was asleep alvin December 20, 2016 - 4:10am

In a lucid dream last night I knew I was dreaming/asleep, but I couldn’t prove it. I kept counting five fingers on each hand (instead of the usual 6 or even 7), and everything in the apartment was right, yet I couldn’t turn on the lights in the kitchen or bathroom, which is a giveaway. (I don’t know why, but light switches usually don’t work in dreams.) I also couldn’t wake myself up. I finally decided that I need another totem for occasions like this and just went along with the experience, then woke up instantly when I found someone sleeping in my bed.

Facta non verba, baby

So the woman who told me to “suck it up” when I complained about doing the laundry in the winter moved out of the apartment complex. Facta non verba, baby.

(I posted this on December 1, 2010, when I lived in an apartment in Wasilla, Alaska, and had a 75-yard outdoor commute to the laundry facility.)

Good God, what happened to this apartment?

I now enter the next phase of my Scala Cookbook project, known as, “Good God, what happened to this apartment while I was writing that book?!”

Had to go outside to see what apartment I live in alvin November 1, 2016 - 9:23pm

The crazy thing about moving so many times is that I just had to go outside to see what apartment number I live in, so I could order something from Amazon.