Tales from the Bathroom

OOh, scared ya, huh? You’re afraid there’s going to be some dirty humor here. Well there isn’t. Unless you count . . .

DISHES.

That’s right. I wash my dishes in my bathroom. Because it’s my only sink. I think I may soon just wash them in the bathtub to alleviate one of the problems I am about to tell you about.

Two reasons I will never have square dishes again

A big square dish does not fit in a round sink, and instead acts as a waterfall to dump water on me.

I realize it’s blurry but can you SEE the size of that bruise?  It’s welted up. That’s right, square dishes have CORNERS just waiting for you to drop them on your foot.

However, in spite of these two unfortunate things, I have two new toys that I am so excited about that I just have to share with the world.

This is my rack for drying dishes and carrying them back and forth from the room.  It means I don’t have to leave them drying all over my bathroom shelf unit, dripping all over my towels and jewelry.

Okay, I realize the vixen in the mirror is distracting, but I’m focusing more on the scrubby!  That’s dish soap in there.  Which means I don’t have to just squirt too much dish soap on dishes and scrub them with a nasty sponge that rubs gross stuff all over my dishes.  Hurrah!

I love doing dishes in general, but I fear this apartment may ruin it for me.  I have six cups, three mugs, four plates, two bowls, four knives, four forks, four spoons, twelve straws, one spatula, one frying pan, one sauce pan, and one big wooden spoon.  You would THINK that would last one person.  It does not.  I basically have to do dishes every day or other day.

Also, just for future homeowners.  Eventually I’ll compile a list of things I’ve learned that you should learn FROM me.  Always wash out cereal bowls and anything with barbeque or marinara sauce IMMEDIATELY.  Trust me.  It’s obnoxious but it will save you so much grief in the long run.

reasons why my apartment is better than yours

Overheard a couple hours ago:
“Hey Steve, are you going out with us tonight?”
“Nah man, I gotta pay child support.”
“You don’t have to.”

Overheard just now:
“With one being a joke and ten being hard, how hard is it getting into bars here with a fake id if you’re a guy?”

I really need to get better about writing these down. I know I’ve heard some even better ones.

Dear Patrons of Boston,

(I say patrons because this is to both residents AND tourists)

YOU DO NOT OWN THE SIDEWALK.

I don’t care if there are twelve people in your party OR you have an umbrella. This is not a majority rule OR a VIP party. There should never be an issue. This is America. We drive on the right side of the street; we walk on the right side of the sidewalk. EVEN IF YOU HAVE A STROLLER, you should not be causing problems, because you should be on the right side of the sidewalk. Do you know why cars can drive opposite directions on the same road? Because they stay on the right side of the road. Car crashes happen when you, lady with your ugly Burberry purse, drive on the LEFT side of the road. That is when you, lady with your immorally large umbrella, poke me in the forehead with your umbrella (it really just happened, just now).

Thank you,
Your Fellow Neighbor Newbury-Streeter

As an aside: If I won a million dollars, I would buy everyone in Boston one of these. Because if people are carrying umbrellas, it means war on the sidewalks.

meet aries.

here, have a cigar.

Guys, there has been an addition to the family.  FOUR additions to the family to be precise.  I would like to introduce to you, with joy in my heart, my extended Boston family. 

That is Lenore.  She is a yellow begonia.  Hopefully she doesn’t DIE like Poe’s Lenore, for whom she is named.

 
This is Tia.  She is a three-headed bamboo plant (or three stalks of bamboo held together by a rubber band).  She is named Tia because she lives in a teacup which cost more than she did.

This is Diego.  I was torn between Diego and Fiachra for a name, because it is a fairy castle cactus (I didn’t name it that!) and fairies make me think of Ireland and Fiachra.  However, I mean, it’s a cactus.  How many cacti grow in IRELAND?  None, that’s how many.  So I named him Diego, after the Dora the explorer Skit that my comedy troupe put on last year.  Diego dies in the end, but hopefully the cactus does not.

And that is Aries, the Venus fly trap.  Yes, I realize Aries is MARS, not Venus.  But I mean, it’s a plant that kills things.  Aries kills things and I’m an Aries.  Venus is a women’s razor and I use a man’s razor anyways (seriously, I use a Gilette razor for men).  I’m worried however because my apartment is rather bug free.  I may have to leave some trash out or something.

Anyways, those are the newbies.  I’m sure you’ll hear me talk about them often because I’m a crazy cat lady who loves plants.

i never agreed to disagree.

It is 55 degrees outside right now.  Which to ME means it’s time to crank up that heater.  Apparently not everyone –namely my landlords– agree.  Lame.

In other news, I once again woke up EXACTLY an hour after I meant to today.  I’m seeing a trend here.

baby steps, children, baby steps.

So I decided to see if I could just figure out how to use the time delay on my coffee pot.  I’ve been having trouble lately getting up in the morning, and I thought maybe coffee would help.  I also brought my clock radio from home.

This morning I was supposed to get up at 8:30. I set the coffee pot to make coffee at 9.  I woke up at 9:30, and now sit at my computer drinking coffee that I didn’t make  (okay, I did, but it happened yesterday, so it doesn’t feel like I did . . .), eating granola cereal, waffling about having to go shower and finish my homework.

So . . . I mean, I got up an hour after I meant to . . . lately, I consider that success!  And in my own defense, I didn’t have the clock radio turned up nearly loudly enough; I’ll have to go back to using the obnoxious beep that gets louder and louder and louder until you’re ready to pitch it out the window.

Because there is such a high demand

Here are a few pictures of my loft continuing to take shape.  There is still plenty more to do, but I think we can all agree it’s looking MUCH better than it did, yeah?

 

I put new knobs on!

Before:

After:

YAY!

Oh, and here is a picture of me, Fidan, and Neslin at Cirque de Soleil last week.  Aren’t we cuties?

my family is pretty strange.

Saturday morning at 9:45am I got a text message from my brother saying “I’m on my way.”  This was in reference to the fact that he was on his way back home from a friend’s house where he had spent the night after they’d been out all night long.  And the REASON that he was coming home at 9:45am after an all-nighter insted of 2pm like a normal person was because my mom, in a fit of excitement I’m sure that was induced by all her ducklings being home for the weekend (that being me, Thomas, and Brittney, though she wasn’t home from Arkansas in time for breakfast), decided to make a big breakfast Saturday morning.  This consisted of waffles and poached eggs (I think poached?  to be honest, I only really know what scrambled eggs are. and hard boiled).  I mean, most families gather for a big dinner when everyone is home, right?

Not us.

So I hauled myself out of bed at 10:02am to my mom hollering through the house, “Breakfast!  Kids, breakfast is ready!”  And me, my little brother, my mom, and my stepdad sat down to breakfast.  It was pleasant. 

Anyways, this weekend trip home has actually been excellent.  It was good to get to spend time with my brother since we basically missed our entire summer together.  And I got to see some more of my mom and stepdad, which always has its pros and cons.  About to head out to lunch with my Dad, then out to see my friend Chrissy’s new apartment.  Tonight I’ll retrieve my belongings and effects from the ex’s house (how strange; that’s the first time I’ve called him that).  And then I will head back to Boston at the crack of dawn tomorrow, no plans as of yet for when I’ll be coming home again.

But yeah, my family is pretty weird.

already an old cat lady?

This actually has nothing to do with cats.  I, home for the weekend, just got back from Target.  A cute little boy was in line in front of me, playing with the magazine racks.  Once his mom had paid, she scolded him and pulled him along, and then I realized I was Hayden, a little boy that I had in mother’s day out and vacation bible school when he was one and two.  I also had his older sister for three years, aged two to four.  Now he’s at least four, which means she’s probably about seven. 

Gee wiz, kids grow up fast!  I feel so old!