The water heater upstairs leaked (no one's living up there presently), so I awoke to a leak coming through my bathroom vent this morning. It's been fixed, as our maintenance is very responsive. I hope that will be the last order I put in to the office. It's so odd to think that within days I'll be leaving my apartment complex where I've lived for over 14 years! But soon I'll be in my friend's house, and I might be able to do some gardening in his yard along the way, and that makes me happy. The houseplants I took over already look like they're doing okay for now. We'll see. At work and at home I had sunny windows, whereas these are shadier, at least in my room, so I may have to do some distribution throughout the house. But we'll make it work.
Born, like other comic book characters, out of an otherwise trivial but life-changing animal bite, the Rabid Librarian seeks out strange, useless facts, raves about real and perceived injustices, and seeks to meet her greatest challenge of all--her own life.
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Showing posts with label Water Heaters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Water Heaters. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Thursday, October 13, 2016
I forgot to mention
That there was a loose wire causing the problem with no hot water, which has been rectified. I still have the large fan they left, though, and while the floor seems dry, I'm still running it just in case. I'm too tired right now to take a shower and stay up to let my hair dry (I don't really like blow drying, to be honest). I'll take one in the morning. In the meantime, I'm just going to chill for awhile. Good night (for real, this time). :)
So this morning
I woke up and was hurting, and really looking forward to a nice, hot shower. I, however, remembered that the water had been cold the night before, so I tested the water before getting into the shower, only to find it very cold, indeed. Somewhat grumpy, I left a polite message asking for them to look at the water heater again, as the water hadn't heated up at all. This was about 5:30 am, long before they came in. Then I went over and woke YKWIA up for an 8:30 appointment (it takes awhile to get him going, and we were still somewhat late). After that, I dropped him off at another one and went on to work. Our benefits fair was going on, so after I checked my e-mail to make sure there was nothing urgent, I went and did that. A couple of hours later he called, I went and got him and took him home, then came back and did my afternoon work. After work, I went and paid my rent and got some gas, as I was on my gas light. I called around today and tracked down a grocery that actually carries hazelnut oil (Fresh Market on Tates Creek Road in the Lansdowne Shopping Centre), and I took him to get it, then to Kroger for a few things, and then home. He fed me some soup and bread, which was marvelous. Now I'm home. I had thought to go shopping for a vacuum cleaner, as I have a little stick one that does nothing, really, on my carpet, but I'm tired, I feel grimy, and I'm ready to relax and call it a night. I talked for awhile with my landlady today when I paid my rent. I guess the apartment passed muster. Yay. She's very pleasant. I know I'm not always the best tenant, but I've been here for a long time, and while I don't always pay on time, I do pay every month, and the full fees on top of it. So whatever she may think privately, she still chats with me and seems keeps any negative thoughts to herself. And when they did the inspection, they did find a leak around the toilet upstairs that hadn't been reported, so I came out looking a little better. :) Fortunately, it didn't make it down to my apartment.
Okay, I think I'll move to the bedroom, take the phone with me to plug up, put Pandora on the TV back there, and chill for a little while, then take my meds and go to bed. Maybe I'll read a bit, too. I'm going to try to get up early to make up some time from today at work. Good night.
Okay, I think I'll move to the bedroom, take the phone with me to plug up, put Pandora on the TV back there, and chill for a little while, then take my meds and go to bed. Maybe I'll read a bit, too. I'm going to try to get up early to make up some time from today at work. Good night.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Hadn't thought about it
But when I got up to go to the bathroom and went to wash my hands, there was air in the pipe and for a moment it ran brown, due to the water heater having been changed. It was also decidedly cold. I hope I won't be taking a cold shower in the morning. The temperature in the apartment is also pretty cool; I've had the windows all open and it's only 67 degrees outside.
I stopped by Kroger on the way home from PT earlier, to look for hazelnut oil for a friend, and took back the two 13-gallon bags of Kroger plastic bags. I'll put a bunch of reusable ones in the car for further trips.
It feels good to have a house that is somewhat orderly. For all that I tend to hoard, I actually get quite distressed by clutter. Some people never realise they have a problem; I do, immensely. Oh, don't get me wrong, often I don't realise 'just how bad' it's gotten, or I can be noseblind or somewhat blind to the clutter, too, as many people who hoard tend to underestimate their clutter. But it's a part of my life that's about control--I should have control over it, but I let my possessions control me. I'm not a materialistic person per se--they're not expensive or flashy by any means. But each item tends to have an emotional component assigned to it that most people wouldn't begin to do.
Ironically, hoarding is sometimes about trying to maintain a certain amount of control of one's environment, when one feels other things are not within one's control. Like the neat freak or someone with OCD or an anxiety disorder, compulsive hoarding and acquiring (for that's an important component that's often overlooked) is a means to keep others at bay. I know, for example, with myself, that it is an extension partly of my social phobia. If my house is 'out of control' and unpleasant, others will not set foot in it. It becomes my area alone, a sort of nest, when I don't need to worry about others interfering. That is one reason, I think, that hoarders get so terribly upset (sometimes to the point of crisis) if someone goes in and removes their clutter or things without their permission. Please, never do that to someone. One, it causes deep and lasting damage (I still remember having my dad throw out everything that wasn't in its place, and a few things that were, when I was a kid, and it was devastating, and only contributed to later problems). Two, it doesn't address the problem, or only addresses it temporarily. It does not change the behaviour, and often one finds the hoarder will then collect more things than ever before in an effort to seek that control that was taken away from them.
I think one of my problems is that, as a military brat, my things were regularly given away or thrown out without my consultation whenever we moved. I have very few things from my childhood, and things that were precious to me were tossed or given away without any real consent. I remember, for example, that the dress I graduated kindergarten in, which I had outgrown, was given to a neighbourhood girl that I didn't like at all, who'd been mean to me, and I resented it. Yes, I couldn't wear it, but it wasn't my decision to give it away, and if consulted, I would have chosen someone else.
For someone who has blocked out much of their childhood experiences, those still ring with emotion. My things were like friends. When I was young, living in Louisiana, we were uncharacteristically stationed at one base for six years. From age 6-12, I actually had some stability. Then I moved, losing my friends, and began a three-state journey with three junior high schools in that short of a time. It was a terrible time to have that upheaval, and I didn't really make many friends. I derived comfort from my things. Even as a small child, I'd been messy to the point of problems with my parents, who could not understand why I would not clean my room. In one way, it was a bit of rebellion. I was such an utterly good child. I was almost no trouble at all, because I put so much pressure on myself of being the 'good girl', the responsible one, the studious one. I was chatty when I was young, but shy with strangers as I got older. Looking back at it now, most of my childhood I was depressed and anxious, feeling unwanted and unloved, for the most part. Not having strong peer relationships (I usually had one friend or so at a time, at least until we (or they) were stationed again), I made relationships with books, in particular, and with generally useless objects, like pretty rocks, or stuffed animals.
When I went off to college, our tiny dorm room prevented me from being messy, except maybe under my bed, which lifted and hinged for storage. When I moved into an apartment with the man who would later be my ex-husband, we had a walk-in closet that we referred jokingly to as my 'hoard'. The apartment was cluttered, but he was a neat freak. So, things stayed in check. Then I divorced, moved out on my own, acquired over a very short time four more animals (I'd had one cat--then another because he was inconsolable at losing his sister, my ex-husband's cat), then a dog, a cat, and a dog.) That made things worse, as you can imagine. At one point I really did have paths through my tiny apartment, and things got pretty bad. Things are actually not nearly as bad in terms of clutter as they have been, and I've had several self-imposed purges and one eviction (not for hoarding, but being unable to pay for a larger apartment after having my work hours cut) to deal with since that. But the underlying behaviour has never changed. I'll be okay for about six months, and then it will start to creep in again. And I'm tired of it. I'm feeling buried under my things, both physically and emotionally, and that is why I sought out my therapist, who has specialised in anxiety disorders and uses cognitive behaviour therapy.
I probably shouldn't really be writing about such things, or posting pictures. I'm trying to find a job, after all, and a quick Google search will bring people here. But maybe I can help people understand what's going on a bit. I know people are fascinated with so-called reality shows and the like. I don't watch those. They may be uncomfortable in the extreme, because I recognise that I have the same problem, and I would never want my life so put on display like some sort of freak show.
I read in one of my books that as mental illness goes, hoarding may actually be much more common than other disorders. There are a lot of us quietly suffering, mostly in silence, in our own homes, in our own mess, afraid to let anyone in. And hoarding can have lasting effects on children growing up in that environment and on spouses of those who hoard. But a lot of us are on our own, with a limited support system. I'm lucky to have a friend who not only is very, very loving and who has helped nudge me to therapy, but who has experience with multiple cases of hoarding in his own family and so yes, on one level he gets it. But sometimes I say something that just floors him, because I don't think like other people, at least about possessions. And for all his experience in some ways, he's not a hoarder himself. He and my other friends tend to just think they could help by cleaning things up for me or helping me purge things. But it won't. This is going to be a slow process. My therapist said that in most cases he's encountered, people work on their hoarding problem for awhile but eventually fall away; perhaps parting with things becomes more painful than the motivation to change. I don't want to follow this road; of course, in about nine months I lose my health care benefit (and my job loss is six months away). So, at a time when my anxiety level is increasing, I'm possibly going to lose that chance at therapy. I've got to work as much as possible in the meantime, I think, if I'm going to reap the benefits of therapy. That's the idea, anyway.
I've rambled on for almost an hour. I think it's time to shut the windows, get ready for bed, retreat to the bedroom, and maybe do some reading before I fall asleep. Good night.
I stopped by Kroger on the way home from PT earlier, to look for hazelnut oil for a friend, and took back the two 13-gallon bags of Kroger plastic bags. I'll put a bunch of reusable ones in the car for further trips.
It feels good to have a house that is somewhat orderly. For all that I tend to hoard, I actually get quite distressed by clutter. Some people never realise they have a problem; I do, immensely. Oh, don't get me wrong, often I don't realise 'just how bad' it's gotten, or I can be noseblind or somewhat blind to the clutter, too, as many people who hoard tend to underestimate their clutter. But it's a part of my life that's about control--I should have control over it, but I let my possessions control me. I'm not a materialistic person per se--they're not expensive or flashy by any means. But each item tends to have an emotional component assigned to it that most people wouldn't begin to do.
Ironically, hoarding is sometimes about trying to maintain a certain amount of control of one's environment, when one feels other things are not within one's control. Like the neat freak or someone with OCD or an anxiety disorder, compulsive hoarding and acquiring (for that's an important component that's often overlooked) is a means to keep others at bay. I know, for example, with myself, that it is an extension partly of my social phobia. If my house is 'out of control' and unpleasant, others will not set foot in it. It becomes my area alone, a sort of nest, when I don't need to worry about others interfering. That is one reason, I think, that hoarders get so terribly upset (sometimes to the point of crisis) if someone goes in and removes their clutter or things without their permission. Please, never do that to someone. One, it causes deep and lasting damage (I still remember having my dad throw out everything that wasn't in its place, and a few things that were, when I was a kid, and it was devastating, and only contributed to later problems). Two, it doesn't address the problem, or only addresses it temporarily. It does not change the behaviour, and often one finds the hoarder will then collect more things than ever before in an effort to seek that control that was taken away from them.
I think one of my problems is that, as a military brat, my things were regularly given away or thrown out without my consultation whenever we moved. I have very few things from my childhood, and things that were precious to me were tossed or given away without any real consent. I remember, for example, that the dress I graduated kindergarten in, which I had outgrown, was given to a neighbourhood girl that I didn't like at all, who'd been mean to me, and I resented it. Yes, I couldn't wear it, but it wasn't my decision to give it away, and if consulted, I would have chosen someone else.
For someone who has blocked out much of their childhood experiences, those still ring with emotion. My things were like friends. When I was young, living in Louisiana, we were uncharacteristically stationed at one base for six years. From age 6-12, I actually had some stability. Then I moved, losing my friends, and began a three-state journey with three junior high schools in that short of a time. It was a terrible time to have that upheaval, and I didn't really make many friends. I derived comfort from my things. Even as a small child, I'd been messy to the point of problems with my parents, who could not understand why I would not clean my room. In one way, it was a bit of rebellion. I was such an utterly good child. I was almost no trouble at all, because I put so much pressure on myself of being the 'good girl', the responsible one, the studious one. I was chatty when I was young, but shy with strangers as I got older. Looking back at it now, most of my childhood I was depressed and anxious, feeling unwanted and unloved, for the most part. Not having strong peer relationships (I usually had one friend or so at a time, at least until we (or they) were stationed again), I made relationships with books, in particular, and with generally useless objects, like pretty rocks, or stuffed animals.
When I went off to college, our tiny dorm room prevented me from being messy, except maybe under my bed, which lifted and hinged for storage. When I moved into an apartment with the man who would later be my ex-husband, we had a walk-in closet that we referred jokingly to as my 'hoard'. The apartment was cluttered, but he was a neat freak. So, things stayed in check. Then I divorced, moved out on my own, acquired over a very short time four more animals (I'd had one cat--then another because he was inconsolable at losing his sister, my ex-husband's cat), then a dog, a cat, and a dog.) That made things worse, as you can imagine. At one point I really did have paths through my tiny apartment, and things got pretty bad. Things are actually not nearly as bad in terms of clutter as they have been, and I've had several self-imposed purges and one eviction (not for hoarding, but being unable to pay for a larger apartment after having my work hours cut) to deal with since that. But the underlying behaviour has never changed. I'll be okay for about six months, and then it will start to creep in again. And I'm tired of it. I'm feeling buried under my things, both physically and emotionally, and that is why I sought out my therapist, who has specialised in anxiety disorders and uses cognitive behaviour therapy.
I probably shouldn't really be writing about such things, or posting pictures. I'm trying to find a job, after all, and a quick Google search will bring people here. But maybe I can help people understand what's going on a bit. I know people are fascinated with so-called reality shows and the like. I don't watch those. They may be uncomfortable in the extreme, because I recognise that I have the same problem, and I would never want my life so put on display like some sort of freak show.
I read in one of my books that as mental illness goes, hoarding may actually be much more common than other disorders. There are a lot of us quietly suffering, mostly in silence, in our own homes, in our own mess, afraid to let anyone in. And hoarding can have lasting effects on children growing up in that environment and on spouses of those who hoard. But a lot of us are on our own, with a limited support system. I'm lucky to have a friend who not only is very, very loving and who has helped nudge me to therapy, but who has experience with multiple cases of hoarding in his own family and so yes, on one level he gets it. But sometimes I say something that just floors him, because I don't think like other people, at least about possessions. And for all his experience in some ways, he's not a hoarder himself. He and my other friends tend to just think they could help by cleaning things up for me or helping me purge things. But it won't. This is going to be a slow process. My therapist said that in most cases he's encountered, people work on their hoarding problem for awhile but eventually fall away; perhaps parting with things becomes more painful than the motivation to change. I don't want to follow this road; of course, in about nine months I lose my health care benefit (and my job loss is six months away). So, at a time when my anxiety level is increasing, I'm possibly going to lose that chance at therapy. I've got to work as much as possible in the meantime, I think, if I'm going to reap the benefits of therapy. That's the idea, anyway.
I've rambled on for almost an hour. I think it's time to shut the windows, get ready for bed, retreat to the bedroom, and maybe do some reading before I fall asleep. Good night.
Apparently
The leak came from my water heater, which has now been replaced, my carpet has been cleaned in the hallway, and a large industrial-strength fan is drying it as we speak. Yay! I don't know why the water wasn't actually showing up in the closet that holds the unit, but hey. I Googled the life expectancy of a water heater, and it's 8-12 years. I'm in my thirteenth year here, and I've had one replaced before, but it's probably been about that. That one had a much bigger leak, which is part of what threw me off. But I couldn't figure out where else it could have come from, since the wet area was between my kitchen and bath. The closet with the heater is between those two rooms. I am glad I rent in this case, so it doesn't come out of my pocket. And I suppose the inspection went well.
I had a good deal of success in the cleaning. While the house wasn't spotless by any means, it was navigable. My bed is made. Anything that hasn't been put away is at the periphery of the rooms, stacked neatly, or on the couch or dining room table, and the latter are in boxes. However, I got three-and-a-half hours' sleep last night, and I'm really tired. I went to physical therapy after work and am very relaxed due to the manual therapy, and I think I'm going to lie down for a bit and rest, and then get up when it's time to take my meds and do that.
At least the apartment is now in a place that I can work on things a little at a time, starting with those closets, as my therapist suggested. But not tonight. Not at all. Heading to the bedroom for some quiet time. :)
PS I searched my blog for the last time the water heater went out, and it was actually ten years ago, September of 2006. So that wasn't too bad. And it didn't get quite so wet. The new one is a Whirlpool and looks all bright and shiny. :)
I had a good deal of success in the cleaning. While the house wasn't spotless by any means, it was navigable. My bed is made. Anything that hasn't been put away is at the periphery of the rooms, stacked neatly, or on the couch or dining room table, and the latter are in boxes. However, I got three-and-a-half hours' sleep last night, and I'm really tired. I went to physical therapy after work and am very relaxed due to the manual therapy, and I think I'm going to lie down for a bit and rest, and then get up when it's time to take my meds and do that.
At least the apartment is now in a place that I can work on things a little at a time, starting with those closets, as my therapist suggested. But not tonight. Not at all. Heading to the bedroom for some quiet time. :)
PS I searched my blog for the last time the water heater went out, and it was actually ten years ago, September of 2006. So that wasn't too bad. And it didn't get quite so wet. The new one is a Whirlpool and looks all bright and shiny. :)
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