Monday, November 21, 2005

Filthy crazy landlady

I have been dealing with a filthy basement, filthy carpet, filthy entry, filthy front door. Who leaves eggs that kids threw at the front door for two years?! I scrubbed that awful protein splatter for 15 minutes until I realized I was actually taking the finish off the door with it. Also gone is the enormus smear of bird shite on the front porch for all to see. Who lives like this?

I am not overly tidy and wince at the idea of waterless personal sanitizer society, but this is not a bearable situation. There just isn't any reason for the doorknob's prior condition.

Walking home from getting the mail, I met a stranger on the street who appologized profusely for smoking and held the Marboro far and away into the street, like I was going to jump for it. Not being an utter puritan, I let him know I was not about to mind unless he needed to be hit with a fire extinguisher. Perfectly charming man in a very nice hat, how could I mind?

He was the most utterly pale shade of sienna with sparkly light blue eyes and was well into his 50s. His name, given to him by his mama, is Jimmy Pierre. How cool a mama can you get?

Christmas Lights, must have access to sound for this: has entered my life again with Virginia Woolfe's The Voyage Out. That ought to be fun.

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