a place to rest your feet

Oh, I do love the look of new carpet.
See how long it takes for the boy and the puppy to mess it up.
I carried the 5x8 rug home 10 blocks down the street by myself over my shoulder.
I feel pretty cool about that.

one fell down

Today at about 8 a.m., a crane collapsed into the penthouse of a high rise on 91st St & 1st Ave before cascading to the ground, taking balconies off the building and the life of the crane operator. I won't say exactly where I live, but I am very close by in the Upper East Side. I don't remember hearing anything at 8 because I was sound asleep, but for the rest of the morning, I heard helicopters as though they were right over my building (and they probably were). Traffic is blocked on 1st Ave for quite a ways. Another crane collapsed on 51st St & 1st in March that killed 7, and before that, a crane working on the top of a new Trump Tower in SoHo fell, too.

Image copyright The New York Times. Original article and image here.

addendum to the neighbor situation

Ugh, she got to me. I had really made it a point never to meet the downstairs neighbor. Eight hours later, it's eating away at me because now I'm creeping around the house, cringing at every creaky floorboard. It feels like now that she met me, she's going to feel that she can actually approach me from now on. I mean, I did not put on an air that I was deeply sorry and I gave a bit of a "tough luck" kind of attitude, so maybe she doesn't really think she got anywhere with her confrontation. But 24 hours ago, I was walking normally, and now it's bugging me to death, and I'm looking up carpet places to buy remnants.

They (neighbors) always sneak up on you when you least expect it.

don't make me wait

A haiku:

LOST 2009.
I am heartbroken and sad.
I can't wait this long.

let's make some noise

The only contact I've had with my downstairs neighbor since we moved in has been in the form of stomping hard on the floor in response to her hitting her ceiling to signal us to be quieter. We've also heard her fighting with her boyfriend through the floor on numerous occasions. Oh, and once at 4 a.m. she randomly buzzed me, pleading to let her in because she's locked out (when she at last got to her apartment, a screaming fight with her boyfriend ensued over her waiting outside in the middle of the night for over an hour.)

So today I was walking my dog, Jolly, and a tall, round woman in shorts and a tank top, cigarette in hand, asks me if she can ask me a question, was I her upstairs neighbor? I said yes, and she proceeded to tell me that we make a lot of noise late at night, and don't we have rugs? Yes, I explain, but you know we only moved in a couple of months ago (December, she points out) and we're working on it (rugs are really freakin' expensive!) She understands because her boyfriend works late, and she can just take a sleeping pill and go back to sleep, but gosh do we make a lot of noise, and don't forget, we have downstairs neighbors!

I was a little off-put by her rant and so was the boy. But I do think a few strategically placed rugs are in order, and I'll just pretend it wasn't catalyzed by her suggestion.