Small things.

Anyone who follows me on facebook or Ravelry may have noticed recently that I haven't been a happy sparky.

Ok, fair enough, but I've been less happier than my normal level of hyperdramatic "why me" whineyness.

For the past week, some lovely gentlemen have been working on the roof of our building. This, generally, is a good thing. We live in an older building, and the roof, being a very important part of the structure of the building, should be in good repair. The problem is the tar being used to re-finish the roof.

You see, in order to re-tar the roof, there has to be, well, tar, available to the workers near to the site. The tar has to be hot to be work-able. Thing is, there is very little room around our building, as there has to be space available for the enterance and exit of the parking lot at the rear of our building. This means that realistically the only available spot for the great bin of hot tar needed to fix the roof is right next to the building.

And the only available indented space where the bin can sit without obstructing the fire route is directly below our apartment. I look out my living room window and I see pipes and wires. I look out the bedroom window and I see smoke. Where there's smoke...

There's noxious fumes.

For the past week, my apartment has been very close to uninhabitable due to the smell of molten tar. If I keep the bedroom window very closed and the fan on at top speed, I can handle it. And, I have to do this to make sure Sorrelle has a safe place to stay, as I really have no idea how affected by this she might be. To go to the living room or the kitchen, I have to fold a long sleeved t-shirt in such a way that the neck and sleeve area wrap around my head, the back/front hangs over my nose and mouth, and I have to bring the sleeves around and tie them under my chin like a HAZMAT mask.

Adam hasn't been sleeping here all week; he can't handle the smell. I don't blame him either... after only a few hours, my throat begins to ache as though my tonsils are swollen. All week, I've had that feeling (a girl at Creative Yarns described it very accurately as the "hairball feeling"), as though there's a great massive glob of snot lodged between your nose and your mouth, and no matter what you do, you can't hork it up, spit it up, blow it out or swallow it.

We've been spending most of our time in Adam's grandmother's apartment. It is on a different side of the building, and is almost completely unaffected by the horrid stench.

Today is Sunday, and it is the first time this week that we have been able to spend any amount of time together in our home. The smell is still here, but because the work is done and the vat, though still here, is not heating the tar, the smell has significantly dissipated. However, it's still outside. This means that opening the windows or turning on the A/C is out of the question. This means that we have no way to air the place out. We have no way to cool the place down. The whole house is stale, and all the stuffy furnature and clothing (yes, all of our clothing), is holding the smell of the tar.

The kitchen light has been out for almost a month, so I've had to move a floor lamp in so I can do dishes (there's no other light, and the windows don't line up with the kitchen), and I've had to get Adam to bring the standing fan out of the bedroom so I can get just a little air circulating through. I feel like my kitchen is a cave!

There are a lot of things I want right now. A lot of them, especially with the way the world is working right now, seem to be a lot to ask, so I can be ok with them not working out.

But I really don't think it's too much to ask to have a comfortable place to live, especially when we pay good money to have this place (I do pay half the rent, and half the bills as I can).

I just want my home back.