This Old Bull

A couple of weeks ago, on a Tuesday, I did my morning normal routine with a slight modification: I couldn’t take a shower because there was no water. The city had decided it’d be cool to shut it off, presumably for some construction that was taking place along Blackwell St, and not tell anybody. The apartments had no warning and thus couldn’t give us any warning either.

Then today, as I exited my apartment on the way to work I noticed a line of parked cars, including my car, all with neon orange “PARKING TICKET” envelopes on their windshields. Apparently the city had put up “No Parking” signs on the telephone poles at some point and again utterly failed to inform anyone. I’ve been parking outside my building for as long as I’ve lived here with no trouble whatsoever. I came home last night after doing the grocery shopping and didn’t notice the new signs, assuming they were there already. If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten, unless some small, barely noticeable change takes place, in which case you get a $10 parking ticket.

To their credit, Ally and Kia in the leasing office had no idea they were going to be ticketing, and agreed to take $10 of next month’s rent if I’m unable to successfully contest the ticket. Still, it’s the principle of the thing.

First, my apologies for the lack of posts over the course of the past couple months. Life was both busy — mostly with work, but also with my sometimes overwhelming social life — and uneventful, so I didn’t really have a chance to post much of anything, but even if I had there was nothing to post. But now we’re back with exciting happenings!

This past Saturday night, there was a music event at a new bar downtown called The Pinhook. It was billed as a steampunk gathering, which I’ve severely missed since The Clockwork Ball moved to Chapel Hill with the closure of Ringside, so Betsy, myself, and our mutual friend Karaya who was in town from Atlanta suited up and headed out.

Continue reading “A New Venue.”