6 Dec 2005

Chin Up, Right To The Ceiling

So, thanks again for the thoughtful words of encouragement. So kind. They really do mean a lot.

My parents seem to have already turned their attentions toward "normal" and are asking about Christmas, getting eager to have yours truly home and to finally meet this boy that I've tricked into liking me. So I'll follow their lead and focus on some happy things on the horizon.

I'm ready to have less showers, too, mainly because our bathroom is truly, truly gross.

A few weeks ago (or maybe a month ago?) we informed our landlord, Charmaine (whom Patrick has dubbed "The Charmaniac"), that the hot water tap in our shower wasn't shutting off properly and that the knob was kind of loose. Well, the knob is now completely useless and we now have to turn the hot water on and off with a pair of pliers. It's like we're this hillbilly couple that considers faucets too "fancy" to be bothered with.

The pliers, however, are only somewhat effective. Try as we might, there is still a little stream of hot water that runs day and night in our shower. This small amount of water manages to heat and steam up the bathroom, making it feel like Humid August Day In Toronto In A Box. It's our own tropical oasis in the winter - complete with - wait for it - vegetation.

Yes kids, I'm referring to the psychedelic ceiling of mold we now enjoy. All the colourful rings paired with whatever poison mold leaches is handing out some heavy tripping potential. Maybe it explains why Patrick enjoys snacking so much. He's, like, the slowest pooper ever which means that he spends way more time in that toxic place than I do. I guess he's just bound to get the munchies.

The Charmaniac has yet to get on with our request. I'm hoping the insane water bill that's coming her way will get her attention.


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I have no shame

Need words? I'm a Toronto-based freelance writer who injects great ones into blogs, websites, magazines, ads and more. So many services, one lovely Jen (with one 'n').

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