Oh, I love it when my uncontrolable curiosity forces me to entertain myself, and it usually ends in injury...
For some time now, I have been without a landlord. There is a huge probate mess going on within the family who owns my building. The elderly gentleman who sat as a figure head within his investment firm passed away almost two years ago, and his nephew (who actually ran things) is in a battle to retain control as other family factions grab at what has been left behind. This means when something needs to be done, I usually end up doing it myself rather than waiting weeks for the trust fund company to get around to sending someone to take care of the problem.
Which brings me to tonight's entertainment.
I have a coin-operated (no, not a boy) washer and dryer. No one has gotten the money from these for who-knows-how-long. I found that I can bypass the mechanism on the washer (simply screwdriver slot), so I don't have to pay to wash my clothes. However, there is still a lock on the dryer. I googles how to pick a tubular lock and found that you can possibly get one open using a pen body. This lock is larger than the circumfrance of the body, but the top fits just fine. Problem is I had to carve off the little stem of plastic used to clip it into a pocket protector.
Enter the pain... I grab a serrated kitchen knife to try and shape this stem into a narrow notch, which will slip into the cylinder and help turn the tumbler. Only I slip during one slice... and end up in my index finger about a 1/4" deep. Lovely! Swearing and pinching the wound close, I grab some tissue and hold it closed. Now, much like Curly from the Three Stooges, pain does not negate frustration and determination to do something. In fact, I'll blindly charge back into the situation simply to make a point, even if it is just to myself. Holding the tissue and the pen cap in one hand and the knife in the other, I attempt again to carve the plastic, only now I'm using more force and frowning deeply.
And I slip again. Fire fills my brain and my hand. Now I've gone into my middle finger, much deeper than the first cut and also much longer. So I fling the knife across the room, annointing wall and anything else in the way with red droplets. The tissue now covers two fingers and I decide that I need tactical rethinking. Obviously the serrated knife will not rest now; having tasted human blood, it won't stop until it has my soul. So I let it lay where it came to rest and took up a sharp paring knife. This got the job done wonderfully.
Unfortunately, the pick trick was a bust. The notch just didn't line up correctly. And my fingers continue to bleed. But I have some super glue around here somewhere, so everything worked out. Sort of.
I still have to pay to dry my clothes and the coin bank is getting full. Hopefully they'll make it over here soon with the key before I try something else
For some time now, I have been without a landlord. There is a huge probate mess going on within the family who owns my building. The elderly gentleman who sat as a figure head within his investment firm passed away almost two years ago, and his nephew (who actually ran things) is in a battle to retain control as other family factions grab at what has been left behind. This means when something needs to be done, I usually end up doing it myself rather than waiting weeks for the trust fund company to get around to sending someone to take care of the problem.
Which brings me to tonight's entertainment.
I have a coin-operated (no, not a boy) washer and dryer. No one has gotten the money from these for who-knows-how-long. I found that I can bypass the mechanism on the washer (simply screwdriver slot), so I don't have to pay to wash my clothes. However, there is still a lock on the dryer. I googles how to pick a tubular lock and found that you can possibly get one open using a pen body. This lock is larger than the circumfrance of the body, but the top fits just fine. Problem is I had to carve off the little stem of plastic used to clip it into a pocket protector.
Enter the pain... I grab a serrated kitchen knife to try and shape this stem into a narrow notch, which will slip into the cylinder and help turn the tumbler. Only I slip during one slice... and end up in my index finger about a 1/4" deep. Lovely! Swearing and pinching the wound close, I grab some tissue and hold it closed. Now, much like Curly from the Three Stooges, pain does not negate frustration and determination to do something. In fact, I'll blindly charge back into the situation simply to make a point, even if it is just to myself. Holding the tissue and the pen cap in one hand and the knife in the other, I attempt again to carve the plastic, only now I'm using more force and frowning deeply.
And I slip again. Fire fills my brain and my hand. Now I've gone into my middle finger, much deeper than the first cut and also much longer. So I fling the knife across the room, annointing wall and anything else in the way with red droplets. The tissue now covers two fingers and I decide that I need tactical rethinking. Obviously the serrated knife will not rest now; having tasted human blood, it won't stop until it has my soul. So I let it lay where it came to rest and took up a sharp paring knife. This got the job done wonderfully.
Unfortunately, the pick trick was a bust. The notch just didn't line up correctly. And my fingers continue to bleed. But I have some super glue around here somewhere, so everything worked out. Sort of.
I still have to pay to dry my clothes and the coin bank is getting full. Hopefully they'll make it over here soon with the key before I try something else
Yes, I am leaving, but it's really only because I'm poor. Had I the funds to continue on SG, I just might. Perhaps when I get some income flowing I shall return. Dunno yet.
My job is going okay. I haven't worked in almost a week because they only really require me for weekends right now and I haven't started my second job at all. I'm waiting on a phone call. Last Thursday, the last night I worked, was the Western Canadian Music Awards and so we had a bunch of 'Canadian' famous people running around. And I looked like a retard, being super duper hungover from Gogol Bordello. I put Canadian in quotations because people in Canada are famous only to themselves, really. I have no idea who these people are, but they're bigshots, I guess.
At any rate, I made a dull impression on one of the big honchos in the city. Hopefully I don't run into him for awhile and he won't remember me.
So far I'm staying warm. The weather hasn't been too terrible. Last night after Henry Rollins was windy and fuh fuh fuh freezing, but I should've dressed warmer. It's supposed to be 18 degrees C tomorrow, which is crazy awesome, and I'm just hoping we can make it until Hallowe'en before the snow flies. Not that I'm doing anything for Hallowe'en. I don't have a costume, but that's my marker as to when it's okay to snow. Snow in November is understandable. Let's just hope it doesn't last 7 months. Or I might not make through the season.
I hope your fingers are healing well and your laundry continues to be half off. Take er easy.
I still haven't gotten over how shitty the winter is here, and every year I ask myself, Why do I frakking live here?!?! as I stumbled over ice and snow to get some juice or something at the store. I hate it. So much!
Hopefully this is my last winter here. If it's not, I might go crazy.
Glad to hear your fingers are doing better. If you are wanting to see my neck of the woods you should do it quickly. The border might be a problem in the years to come. But I can recommend some neat places to check out for sure.