My Building Has Genovese Syndrome
I love my condo building. I really do. It’s located in a great area. Most of the residents are nice people. I have the top floor corner unit. My next door neighbor is hot. I could go on and on.
But someone spilled powdered laundry detergent in our one elevator over a week ago, and despite probably every single one of the building’s 50-odd residents using the elevator during that time, no one has cleaned it up. It’s like non-lethal Genovese Syndrome.
Someone took the time to write a note with a bold red Sharpie asking the perpetrator to take responsibility for their spillage. Another person took the time to take that note down. And just today, I saw that the words “clean me” had been scrawled in the powder. Cute. Kind of reminded me of an extremely dirty white Honda I saw once, with the words “Also available in white” written on the window.
So today I finally broke down and vacuumed the stuff up. As one of the only renters in the building, I was probably the least likely candidate to care enough to do so, but what can I say. It wasn’t even the detergent itself that was killing me. It was the constant reminder that I live in a building of people too wrapped up in their own lives to deal with even 30 seconds of pro-bono energy exertion… myself included.


Pink Comic Sans. A perfect indication of how this process has gone so far.
The halogen torchiere. You know it well. It was the portable upright lamp seen in every living room, dorm room, and bedroom during most of the 1990s. Available for not much more than $15 at any home and hardware store during the height of its popularity, this ultra-soft source of light was a staple of urban living.

I don’t use