Apartment Living

All posts tagged Apartment Living

Apartment Living Past

Published June 28, 2019 by helentastic67

Apartment Living Past

Definitely time to throw in a post about apartment living. Late 2017 I moved into an apartment. It’s my fourth move since my diagnosis back in 2007. While I’ve not done any big distances between each place I’ve lived, this is the most ‘new-build’ I’ve ever been in. The last place was a unit, my address was Unit 1 at 111. No really, it was a great number to live in. It was only two minutes drive from where I now reside. That move was prompted by ‘sleazy’ landlord concerns. Because he just didn’t get it, he could not put his hands ‘ON’ me and tell me he loved me and wanted to have sex with me.

Did you, just throw up a little in your mouth? Exactly! So, I digress, apologies.

Apartment Living.

I have a carer every morning, maybe only for an hour, to an hour and a half and I keep them busy with tasks while I’m in the shower, doing a few dishes, putting buckets of water out on the balcony for my plants or taking down my rubbish and recycling. On Sunday morning my carer came into the bathroom and I polished a circle near my face on the shower screen door, so she could see my face.


This is what I said to her; “While you were out, I TOOK a call from S blocks that way. Stop slamming the door” She asked if I’d really received a call?

The apartment doors are rather heavy, I guess it’s for good security and sound proofing. I can’t hear what’s happening next door. Well, they might hear me, but my surround sound died, so it may no longer be an issue for them. But I often hear laughing and people running past my door to the lift and I really wish they would stop.

Apartment Living

Published May 27, 2019 by helentastic67


Apartment Living

It’s noisy, but quiet, it’s a very odd contradiction, so I shall need to explain. When I moved into my apartment (I rent) over a year ago, I was concerned about if it would be noisy or smelly or if I would never see my neighbours.

Once you are inside your apartment, you can’t really hear loud TV’s or dogs barking or loud thumping music from your neighbours. Once you close the heavy front door, you don’t hear anything from your neighbours. I sometimes hear people race past my front door to get to theirs or heading to the lift.

Sometimes if I’m heading to the lift and hear a door slam behind me, I’ll hold the lift door for anyone behind me. Then we proceed to have a brief awkward conversation about good timing and never seeing anyone else. So, yes I rarely see anybody from my floor.

I’m in an apartment block on a very busy corner. There is a main street where at my corner it forks off in a slightly north/eastern direction on the tram line and at the middle of the ‘bits’ (not sure how to best describe this) there is a pub. Across the street are more apartments. In my block, we are six storeys and across the street they are even higher.

The noise from the traffic, the trams, the pub. It’s ridiculous, the cars and motorcycles, the service vehicles, I can’t tell anymore, is it an ambulance, police car? I hear several of those every day.

One morning my carer arrived after I’d woken early and attempted to get back to sleep. An alarm of some kind had started and been going for about twenty minutes. My carer was with me for about ninety minutes. You tune it out after a while and the silence between seem to get a little longer and we looked at each other. Hopeful? Did it stop? No! Damn it!

I heard noises before, but never been able to workout where it was coming from or what it was to alert us to. I presume it was the apartment building across the street. I don’t know what it’s to alert or for what. If I could call someone, I wold but who would that be? If that person knew already, why weren’t they doing something about it?

My carer left and ten minutes later after a migraine had set in and taken hold, it stopped. Posing the question, WHY? And of course, can it stop?



Published March 11, 2019 by helentastic67



Now, for some light and shade. If you just turned ‘twenty-three’ it was pretty dark times. Although this story stems from a purchase from back then.


When I finally got a queen-sized bed (my dad made me a sleigh bed) but more about that later. I bought some affordable pine furniture to fill my bedroom, two bedside tables, a tall boy with a large blanket drawer down the bottom and an upright bookcase with nice moulding on the top.

Pine furniture

Now, I said it was affordable, I meant cheap. However, I added some raw amber water-based paint, some patina (antiquing medium) and some polyurethane in a satin finish and more than a single effort with the sandpaper and what can I say? Carpenters daughter, right here.


Anyway, that’s the background, the tall boy in my current home lives in the ‘return’. File under ‘apartment living’, all new builds must have a window to every bedroom. That means my bedroom has a hallway like space to the window, where I have put my DVD, bookcases and the tall boy (and anything else that didn’t fit anywhere).


So, being one handed and because I don’t stand in front of the tall boy to get the draws open and closed (I did say cheap right? The draws aren’t on runners) making opening one-handed painful and the trials and dilemmas on being one handed and having limited space. I reached down and was hitting the drawer on both ends to get the thing closed.

Open draw

That’s all background you need so next is the punchline so I hope you stayed with me.

So, recently late one night, putting my clothes away, thinking I might even make it to be by 1am. (Yeah, it’s a realistic goal, even if it’s not one that makes my shrink happy) I obviously hit the tall boy draw one too many times, rather vigorously and the candle stick on top fell off and connected with the top of my head. Yes, it really hurt and yes, I used my favourite word. AND rather than slow it down, it seemed to gather speed as it hurtled towards my foot.

Kicking furniture

Which foot? I hear you ask. For those who don’t know or don’t remember, my left foot has been affected by my ‘stroke, not stroke’ as I like to call it.

Stroke no stroke

So, of course it landed on my right foot, because I can fucking feel that one. Sweet Jesus, it hurt so much. Lots of swearing as I hobbled to bed and even days later, here is a photo of my bruised toes.

Bruised toes 1Bruised toes 3











Solution? Need to update the tall boy to open with drawers on coasters for easy sliding and good OH&S. Adapt! Adapt! Adapt!

Adapt and learn

File Under Apartment Living

Published February 4, 2019 by helentastic67

Apartment Living

File Under Apartment Living

I was talking to my mum on the phone, the balcony door was closed, the only window open in the study (the second bedroom) and my mum says to me;

On the Phone

“Can you turn that down?”

Turn that down

I don’t know if I’ve mention, but I do all calls at home on speaker phone, in case I need to pick up a pen or I multitask doing “something”.


I told her I couldn’t turn it down as it was a motorcycle.


What was I meant to do? Go out onto the balcony and scream out

Scream turn it down


That would go down well wouldn’t it?

Ba Hum Bug.


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