"This week was like a cold overcast day and I was the only kid who decided to go to the town swimming pool and it was the first day it was open so the surface was covered with dead bugs and I was swimming with my mouth open and a piece of dog doo that was floating along floated into my mouth."--Chris, two minutes ago
Chris and I coincidentally took the same F train home tonight and waded through slush on the sidewalk and sleet in the air to unlock our door and discover our beautiful big high ceiling apartment that we moved into one month ago and love is covered from top to toe in a fine layer of grit--cement dust, we think, and are just hoping it's not lead-contaminated. I'm leaving a butt-print in my chair as I type.
The landlords are demolishing the bottom two floors, renovating them into a duplex for their family, and this morning was the first we'd heard the construction start up, although last night when we came home we were confronted by a new interior door in the hallway separating our staircase from the rest of the building, destroying my fondly-held delusion that I had a beautiful brownstone all to myself. "It's not like I own the building," I told myself. "The nice landlords deserve some privacy for their family." Even when we felt the floors shake as we put our coats on and left for work this morning we maintained a cheerful attitude about it all.
And we don't blame the landlords, who called us right away after receiving our frantic email and have already offered to pay for our laundry bill and put us up in a hotel (we don't THINK we're being poisoned, so we said thanks but that's okay).
Now Chris is on the phone with the contractor, amazingly friendly considering his fury when we first walked in and his subsequent desolation--see above quote. Oh, update: apparently the theory is that the workers opened the windows, creating a vacuum in the building and sending all the dust...well, you guessed it.
Anyway. We're off to find some vodka--I mean, dinner, Chris, Shelby, and I. I'll feel much more equipped for Swiffer-shopping after I've had something to, um, eat.