"Who's that girl, where did she come from?!"

With all due respect to Michelle Pfeiffer, Howard Greenfield and the soundtrack from "Grease2", the girl be Maria and she came from the old Mi Casa next door. This, for those who were wondering as to the "us" and "both" from my posts below on Basecamp Rooftop!

Of Pipes and Air Blocks

Its been more than ten days and the Saga of the Dry Taps continues. At least in the kitchen. Everywhere else it's more like the Story of Drip Style Irrigation. Which, in effect, leaves us waiting a couple long hours for a small bucket to fill.

Why the blight?! Why this be? Why anything be! Why we all be, one may well ask! However, descending from the ether of existentialism, let me attempt to answer that. Motors that are supposed to be pumping water, from the depths of the sunken water tank up to Casa Rooftop, have, on the one hand, developed air blocks in the pipes. And, on the other hand, managed to burn out certain parts that I am guessing are key to the whole Miracle of Water business.

All of this now effectively leaves us high and dry. Pun totally intended!

Dry Secrets of Base Camp Rooftop

So maybe the Great Game isn't as played out as I would have thought!

Come morning, and what do we have but taps as dry as bone! Ah-Ha! Secret Number One of Mi Casa...the waters don't run quite as deep or as often as one would hope.

Today we managed to dash across to the old Mi Casa (which continues to be in force till the end of the month) for the morning splash-a-thon ; don't see that working for too long.

Maybe I will learn the art of bathing in sand...seems to work for Bruno and Charlie!

Base Camp Shifted

The Great Game finally played out, and we ended up renting the place on the first floor of the house next door. Rather, on the terrace of the house next door.

Its small, compact, and has just about enough space to fit both us and our innumerous belongings. I don't even want to think about how we managed to shift everything over! Suffice it to say that I am still amazed at the way you can hoist stuff over a wall and up over the roof.

The past few days have been spent in a haze of moving, tripping over boxes and bags, cramming things into new closet space and sneezing incessantly from all the dust around; my throat no longer loves me, and attempts to jump out of my mouth every so often. Successfully. Sometimes.

Benadryl no longer works, freshly squeezed Ginger juice is now just a placebo, and hot water is the drink of the day. But heck, amidst all the koffing and wheezing, it does hit home that we are perched real pretty up here, with the stars above, fresh breeze blowing past, and the expanse around us. And if you listen real close you can hear a cricket, somewhere. Or maybe that was just the kid downstairs squealing when Dravid hit a sixer.

Anyways, welcome to Base Camp Rooftop.

"Who the heck is Axe?"...

...asked tons of folks today, as they ran into me through the day, puzzled by my seeming propensity for either medieval weaponry or chopping wood.

So for those who came in late, Axe be-eth (wud Billy Shakespeare have okayed that one?) friend from days of yore. As in chaddi-dost and all that. And master
blogger of the 5th kind. And don't ye be askin' 'bout the other 4!

The Great Game

When I say the Great Game, I do not mean it to be the world of Aes Sedai and sundry figments of Robert Jordan's imagination. I mean shady realtors, an escalating property market, home owners on the make, and the greatest turtle of them all , on whose back said game gets played out, the desperate home-hunter. Or rather, the desperate rented-home-hunter.

Which in this case, would be me. And 17 other hapless women who are left, figuratively, out in the cold. (Axe - will thank you to stop grinning). Caught in a game where the only rule that matters is You-Rent-You-Lose, You-Own-You-Win.

Fact of the matter being that the property game is such a lucrative one. And owning a huge house, in the heart of a prime residential area, is just one teeny step away from selling said huge house for huger sums of money.Which is exactly what my current landlady has done. And that brings things back to me, and the afore mentioned 17 - left with no choice but to pack our bags and push-orf, in a hunt for a new home. All to be done in about 3 weeks.

And this is where the Great Game steps in - looking for a place to rent? No problem! Take your pick - independent house, apartment, garage, paying-guest rooming....the list is endless. But before you start looking at places, and setting your heart on them beauties, stop a minute and check your wallet. Because, even the pookiest hole comes with a price tag fit to bankrupt you. And if the rent isn't an issue, the advance and the realtor percentages probably are. And if that works out as well, your marital status, or the fact that you want / do not want a company lease could well be. And if that also works out well, the shape of your face, or the color of your dog, or the fact that you enjoy the occasional chicken shawarma is bound to be. And if even those pass muster, the owner probably wants to be paid in hard cash - all the way, and you only get to move in when he says so.

And if NONE of these are an issue, why, congratulations! You've got yourself a deal! But...hang on a mo...what's that smudge on the horizon? Why, that's the city you poor sap! About 1 hour and a lifetime away, in terms of the commute. And not to mention that the City Public Transport Service only works within the City, if at all. So you can go the last couple of miles by bullock cart, or auto-driven-by-totally-corrupt-driver-demanding-a-million-bucks-a-trot.

But hey, you've got yourself a great place. Welcome to the Great Game.