6 posts tagged “apartment life”
I finally gave in and bought this alarm clock (though not at this price!) after Old Faithful let me down again last week. I hope I like it, and hope it stays around as long as the old one.*
Which is going to live in the closet. I seem to have some separation issues.
The first piece of junk mail addressed to me and not to "Resident" finally turned up in my mailbox, ending that blessed period when various charities haven't noticed that I've moved.
I should have figured--if Amnesty International can find prisoners languishing in foreign climes, they can probably find me a mile and a half away from my old address.
Just as I was moving out of the terrestrial Villa Grammatica 1.0 last month, my vacuum cleaner decided to malfunction. Let me rephrase that: I have two shedding cats, I was kicking up three years of dust, and my vacuum cleaner decided to malfunction. It's an Oreck, the kind they advertise as being able to pick up a bowling ball--an ad I only seem to remember when it can't pick up a bowling shoelace.
Finally, two weeks of using my lint roller on rugs and wondering what lint lurked in my new carpet, I took the think apart and found that the belt was nearly torn in an area I couldn't see last time I checked. And so Villa Grammatica 2.0 got really clean for the first time last night. The reformed Oreck even left a little Mohawk of upstanding fiber in my shag rug, it's so powerful now.
Rarely have I been so happy about doing something my pets can undo in fifteen seconds.
[ imagine it in that voice Captain Caveman used to use on the old cartoon]
Weather outside:
Animal-age inside: (on my afghan, no less!)
Spam-enough
We all try to ignore it. But when an obviously female-sounding e-mail address sends spam to MY obviously female-sounding e-mail address bragging about their hypothetical penis size, it starts to approach performance art. (Actually, the exact phrasing was "My wife adores my big d'ick, and yours?" which adds a certain spice of suspenseful domestic drama as well.)
Speaking of Soap Operas...
Attention former Santa Barbara and Lois & Clark fans! Lane Davies is still hot.
Speaking of Superpowers...
I've finally figured it out: I don't bruise easily. What I DO do easily is whack the crap out of myself on furniture. Last night I managed to bang one knee in two places at once on an ordinary cedar chest. I bet even Houdini didn't do that.
Villa Grammatica itself, though lovely*, is an apartment with few amenities. By far the worst aspect of this is the lack of central air conditioning, but the heat, though present, is determined by some thermostat setting I can't control, set by someone better at retaining body heat than I-- a suspect list longer than that in Murder on the Orient Express.
Since I own several dozen blankets, this wouldn't be a problem, were it not for my pesky habit of, say, wanting to stay awake as I work on the computer or watch TV. My response to blankets is essentially Freudian: I snuggle up and immediately regress to the sleepiness of the womb. And so today, I took my innate fear of household calamity in both hands and invested in a space heater, one of the greatest inventions the world has ever known.
AND the thing oscillates!
Result? I'm warm, awake, and typing! Tune in later for "warm, awake and watching The Tick" and "warm, awake and repairing jewelry"! Woohoo!
