I couldn't sleep past 8:30am (unheard of on a
weekday, let alone a Saturday) because it's so damn bright out. Too much
I don't consider snow extreme weather–it's the
normal winter stuff we never see anymore–but wind-wise, I've never experienced
such extremes as in the past three months and can't tell if I'm just noticing
it more since I'm surrounded by windows and am up in the air (though six
stories is hardly high-rise) or this has been an unusual span of time. No one
would complain about possessing a large private terrace in NYC, but mostly it's
been too cold to use it (I've been trying to paint a table and shelf since Christmas
but the weather has never been predictable enough to that I feel comfortable
leaving a piece of furniture out to cure for more than 24 hours) so its main
purpose has been for storage. There's just too much crap to fit inside the
condo (and it had to be removed from the parking spot, which is a huge, boring
source of contention I won't bother going into) and this is causing problems,
not from an ugliness perspective, but because there have been multiple
instances of winds so strong they've rivaled Hurricane Sandy's gusts. Scary,
extremely violent wind.
Last week there were 50-mile-an-hour gusts, enough
to pop open the lid on a large Rubbermaid storage shed (upper left corner in photo) that had been weighted
down with a 42 lb bag of cat litter blew. It blew off and disappeared during
the night–for the second time in a month. Last time it drited into the empty
lot next door and construction workers let us pick it up.
After searching the street futilely this time, we
spied it on a rooftop three lots over (?!) I have no idea how to retrieve it
since the neighboring buildings aren't residential but warehouses with no
signage or windows, just the occasional Chinese guy coming in and out an
unmarked side door. This is the view from the elevator bank, by the way. The terrace is completely on the other side of the building sticking out of the left side of the photo.
My 2005 Jones holiday soda pack was a casualty.
And my 1950s diner table that I tried giving away to
no avail has become a victim of rainstorms and snow drifts, along with an '80s oak table and a red Ikea thing on wheels. The terrace has
become a graveyard of homeless furniture.