Navigating...ack, what AREN'T we navigating? Part I

The following scenarios are real. They happened. In this order. Some are ongoing. Bah, stupid twenties.

Property Manager is Missing in Action

You might recall the previous blog post about our fire-storm escapades. Well, during that rather tense moment standing on the sidewalk and watching the firemen storm through the house, we were educated on kitchen safety. By which I simply mean, our oven is dangerous. And not working. To catch you up, Gentle Reader, about one month after moving in we had some difficulty with the heating element. After about 4 attempts over two weeks to get a response, the property manager finally called the property owner and the element was replaced. That lasted...one day. It all came crashing to a halt when we realized that not only had the owner deliberately replaced the element and left the unit unplugged, but that the oven wouldn't STOP heating. ::sigh::

Fast forward 4 weeks: between Sisterita and myself, 6 aggressive emails and countless phone calls to every imaginable source had been completed. No word. Not from the property manager. We had no way to reach the owner. Dining out was getting expensive. And with the temperatures dropping, cold salad every night was not cutting it. At that point, we sent a nasty correspondence. I mean aggressive: demanding fixed equipment or back compensation for the 5 weeks of incurred dining bills. Not a proud moment, but it was a HELPLESS feeling 

When I finally reached the manager's wife, it was to discover that he was out of the country. 

On a mission's trip. Serving humanity. 

At what point are we allowed to be self-centered and rate our kitchen needs higher than that of mankind?

Mowing. Muscles. Mayhem.

Little to say: one of us (what is the point at utter humiliation?) tried to start the push mower. The pulley got caught, wrenched back, and caused some very serious tearing in the muscle region. Minor panic ensued after a short call to Dr. Dad hinted at orthopedic surgery. Fortunately, that passed. But we were down one dominant arm.

 Technology.

Two days after the pain and agony of trying to set up internet and cable (moving on up!), we had a minor setback. One day we woke up (cold, not able to make breakfast) and both laptops were dead. One personal, one belonging to the workplace.

It took two days to figure out, but apparently both power converters were fried during a power outage. Some semblance of order has since been restored. Post 5 days with limited technology access.

Frost Bitten

It is 34 degrees outside. Coats have been pulled from the abyss of boxes. Sisterita and I have fought the necessity of finding windshield scrapers. Satin shoes have been put away, and boots have been pulled out. All of this is trivial compared to the real problem: it is 34 degrees and we have no heat. None.

Apparently, we missed the memo that we have a dual electric/gas heating. So, with several appointments with the gas company made, missed, rescheduled and anxiously anticipated, we did they only thing we could: we put on hoodies and wrapped ourselves into a single multi-blanket cocoon on the couch.

Disheartened over being successful 20 somethings with no heat, we were in emotional turmoil. The obvious answer was to have bowls of ice cream to numb our "pain".
While shivering.
Wrapped in quilts.
The coup d'etat, the final blow to dignity, came abruptly when Sisterita yelled, "These sprinkles are the only things that make me happy anymore!" ::commence hysterical, dramatic giggles::

And then we ran out of sprinkles. And the tenuous grip on sanity was broken. No system is perfect.