Wednesday, July 06, 2005

My Very Own 1900 House

I wake late this morning and pad off to the water closet to do my morning, um, ablutions, and the toilet won't flush.
I jiggle the handle, which I never do, for the same reason i think people who try a locked door twice are luggage brains. But my toilet won't flush. So, jig jig jiggety jigaw, God DAMN it.
I try the sink. No.
The shower. Nada.
The kitchen sink. No way, Holmes.
Son of a bitch. Now, of course, my morning hands are about to get 50 times dirtier, and I can feel my teeth crusting and calcifying over, and I'm going to be swimming in my own sweat even mre than usual, and it'll mixed with the inevitable grime of cat hair and dust in my already dusty-ass apartment, and I'm sure that my hair looks like Nicolas cage's in Raising Arizona, and my cat can't get fresh water and MY GODDAMNED TOILET WON'T FLUSH!!!!!

God be damned, I'm living like they did on the frontier. (Except for the computer I'm typing this on, heh heh.)
My phone rings. My temp agency calls and asks me to go in last minute to the place I've been three times in the past two weeks. (I guess they like me.) I calmly explain to my girl Melissa the situaysh and she's almost beside herself with horror. She hopes I can make my assignment for tomorrow. Me too, sez I. I call the woman with whom I hane a counseling session this after, and she, too, weeps for my plight. We reschedule and I weigh my options.
By noon, I check my frontier email and then I throw something on and decide to go to a local restaurant, partly because I don't feel like cooking and mainly because, well, when I'm done with lunch there I can do something there that I can't do at home, God Damn It.

After a lovely lunch (yeahhh) I come home and GDI, still no water. The fuck? At first, my semi-paranoiac mind thought this was an anti-squatting thing, since my landlord hasn't given me a lease and maybe he's trying to get rid of me. But I call him and make him aware of both fears, and he assures me they're on the water thing, which is odd because I can't even find the handyman, but at least it's not just my apartment, so good. He also says he'll get on the lease thing. Good. And now I give to you, the dirty, dirty details of my day thus far.

Hope you like it. It was either this or write about Corey Patterson.


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