As God As My Witness, I'll Never Be Dirty Again

You'll all be relieved to know that when I got home this evening my shower was restored to a working state and I have since taken what is quite possibly the best and most satisfying shower of my entire life.  Sadly, my bathroom is still a mess (the tiler did a terrible job of removing the excess grout and left his filthy tape measure behind for my measuring pleasure) but I don't care because I am clean.

I have to say, though, I was very tempted by Katie's enticing offer to avail myself of her, ah, facilities--toddler step stool and all--but there's nothing like getting all those intimate nooks and crannies clean in the comfort of your own shower.  And boy did they need it!  I gotta tell ya, a sponge bath just don't cut it, if you know what I'm saying.  Of course you don't, and I hope you never do.  The last couple of days have been worse than camping--at least when you're camping people expect you to look dirty and smell bad!  I had to work, fer cryin' out loud!

Anyway, it's all over now and hopefully I'll never need to go through that again.  And I'm not gonna hold my breath for any kind of compensation or even an apology from my management company.  Their attitude throughout this whole debacle has been disinterested at best and downright rude at worst.  Ah well, I guess things could have turned out much worse.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go shave my legs.

The Shower Saga Continues

I managed to get my semi-clean self to work yesterday without completely buggering up my back.  Leaning over my kitchen sink for 5 minutes sure as hell didn't help, but it didn't seem to make it that much worse.  Once I got to work I called the management company and left a voice message which I hoped adequately conveyed my displeasure at the sequence of events.  In response to Mindy's comment, I also was the most upset about the door not being locked and I certainly tried to make that clear in my message.  A woman named Heather eventually called me back and left me a message in which she apologized (somewhat unconvincingly) and blamed the mess on my super who was supposed to inform me and didn't blah blah blah.  She also came up with some lame story about the plumber thinking the door was locked by simply closing it which, when you had to use a key to unlock a deadbolt, really doesn't make any sense.  She assured me the tiler was coming today and then my shower would be useable.  I called Heather back and (surprise, surprise) left her a message thanking her for the update but that I didn't buy the plumber's excuse for not locking my door and it had better not freaking happen again.

When I got home (and unlocked my door) I noticed right away that there were dusty footprints on my floor that weren't there when I left and that the curtains covering the slider to my balcony were open when I knew for certain I had closed them to keep the heat out.  Hmm.  As I made my way to the bathroom I noticed yet more white stuff on the floor, now not just dust but larger chunks of what I assumed was dried grout.  Now I'm a terrible housekeeper, but that's no excuse to track shit through my place!  Only I get to track shit through my place!  Regardless, I just wanted this whole debacle to be over, but when I peered around the doorway it became apparent that it wasn't in fact over because, while the tiling was indeed done, I still didn't have a faucet and spout thus rendering my shower useless.

So I did the best I could this morning with yet another sponge bath and back-breaking hair washing session, but I can't help but feel self-conscious about the possibility that I might smell less than, well.... fresh.  It looks like Heather is getting another phone call from me, and if the shower isn't in perfect working order by the time I get home tonight, one of you is getting a phone call.  I promise I won't sing and I'll even bring my own towel.

Don't Worry, I Wasn't Burglarized

I came home from work today to an unpleasant surprise--my apartment door was unlocked.  At first, everything seemed fine--it didn't appear that anything had been disturbed, until I got to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and the bathroom.  A bunch of stuff from the bathroom was sitting in the hall.  And in the bathroom was clearly not the way I left it--I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a giant hole in the back wall and the spout missing.

At this point it became pretty clear to me that there had been a visit from the plumber whom I managed to put two and two together and figure out must have been in my apartment to address the ongoing water leak issues that I though were long resolved.  Since I was under the impression these issues had been dealt with--and since no one had called or left me a note advising me otherwise--I was in no way expecting this kind of intrusion.

Now it's almost 8:00pm and whoever left my door unlocked hasn't come back and I still have a giant hole in my shower which clearly prevents me from using said shower until the hole is patched, which it is becoming more and more apparent will be tomorrow at the earliest.  Normally I wouldn't be too upset by having to take a sponge bath and wash my hair in the kitchen sink, but after my crazy cleaning spree on the weekend I managed to strain my back into spasm and I'm pretty sure leaning over a sink to wash my hair isn't going to improve the situation.

This better be fixed by the time I get home tomorrow night or I'm gonna be very unhappy.

It Is Done

I took 6 bags of clothes and shoes (and yes, even purses) to Goodwill today.  It's the first time in a long while I've done this and I'm a bit ambivalent about it.  As good as it feels to get rid of things I know will go to people who can use them, a part of me feels like I've given up.

You see, every single item of clothing I got rid of today is too small.

So I'm feeling a bit defeated.  I've had to accept that I'm so far away from ever wearing these items again that by the time I get back to that size (assuming I ever do, and that's assuming a lot) I won't want to wear them anyway, probably because they will be 15+ years out of style.  The shoes and purses were an easier thing--most of the shoes never really fit properly anyway and the purses had seen better days and didn't have any particularly distinguishing features to make the cut.  But I'm still dealing with letting go of the clothes.  Some of the pieces I've had for a very long time (like, since the 90s) and it's easy to get attached to something after that long.

I must confess--I kept back one bag.  Hey, I got rid of six, what more do you want from me?  Geez!  Anyway, I kept one bag of stuff I just couldn't bear to part with.  One such item was the faux zebra jacket I wore the first year I won "Best Male Drag" at Club Ren in their annual Halloween costume contest.  With a history like that, it would be unthinkable to let go.  Besides I'm pretty sure faux zebra is a classic that will never go out of style...Regardless, it stays along with a few other favorites I just can't live without, even if they don't fit.

The best part of this whole thing is I can actually get into my fabulous walk-in closet unimpeded.  Formerly the way was blocked by piles of garbage bags taunting me with their too-small contents.  Now I can easily get to the clothes I own that actually do fit without spraining an ankle.

So, for those of you who want proof (I'm looking at you, Mindy) here's my newly emptied closet:

See?  Nothing blocking the way to all those beautiful clothes.  Here's a look at the purse collection:

Now to be honest this isn't the complete collection.  I do have more, but these are the ones not in the current rotation.  Yes, there's a rotation.  You got a problem with that?

Here are the bags of clothes I've kept.  Some of them are fall/winter and some of them are spring/summer that are just a teensy bit too small:

See?  I got rid of six and I kept eight.  That's pretty good, right?

Right?

Well I'm proud of myself.

Mmmmmm....Ribs and Beer

This weekend all us heathens in my hometown are celebrating all things beast and barley.  Yesterday after work I and several of my co-workers dutifully headed over to Victoria Park like the good acolytes we are and stood in line to purchase our blue wristbands, mini Pilsner glasses and shiny beer tokens.  We were joined by what appeared to be thousands of other like-minded individuals and proceeded to explore the wonder of hops one 4 ounce glass at a time.

Among my favourite masters of the grain were Flying Monkey, Cameron's (from whom I obtained an "I drink local beer" bumper sticker which I wore proudly for the remainder of the evening) and Stone Hammer whose Maple Ale is arguably the best beer I have ever tasted.  As far as the barbeque part goes, the ribs I had from Camp 31 probably came from a unicorn they were that magical.  "Fall off the bone" doesn't go far enough in explaining how succulent these suckers were--it was like they leapt off the bone and floated effortlessly into my mouth where they proceeded to chew themselves.  And by the way, if you clicked on the link I provided you are now listening to Kid Rock murder "Sweet Home Alabama."  You're welcome.


If you're in the neighbourhood, I strongly suggest checking out Victoria Park this weekend.  Unless you're a vegetarian who doesn't like beer, in which case I suggest checking out the Uptown Waterloo Jazz Festival instead.

P.S.  Camp 31 is located in Paris, Ontario and has arguably the best Southern BBQ I've ever tasted.  You should totally go--I'm looking at you, Meat Club.  It's absolutely worth the drive.  Trust me.

P.P.S.  For those of you who may be wondering how I got my beer-tipsy ass home last night, I took the bus. Incredible, but true.

Oh Sweet Relief

I'm a human barometer--I always know when a low pressure system is coming in because my head pounds like nobody's business.  It's always been like that for as long as I can remember.

And let me tell you, today's headache is a doozy.

Right now it feels like someone is pressing their thumbs into my eyeballs while someone else is jabbing an ice pick into my right temple.  No amount of pain killers will help--believe me, I've tried.  All I can do it wait it out and pray for the storm to finally pass.  Literally.

I can hear the rumble of thunder in the distance--by tomorrow morning it should all be better.  For now, escape through sleep.

Heat: The Second Wave

Remember last summer?  The summer of non-stop bitching about how cold it was...?  How unsuitable the weather was to hanging out on the patio drinking beers with your buds or scoping out scantily-clad hotties at the beach...?  Well so far this summer has been a case of "be careful what you wish for."

I should have known something was up back in earlyApril when I was taking pictures of my nieces frolicking in the sunshine in shorts and t-shirts.  That unseasonably warm weather, while very enjoyable at the time, was clearly a harbinger of things to come.

After a brief reprieve from last week's heat wave, today we are faced with the promise of another.  In fact, according to forecasters with Environment Canada, the entire summer will be a seemingly endless cycle of hotter than frickin' hell followed by a couple of days of relief followed by more torture in the furnace.

And that is exactly why I felt justified paying $1000 to fix the AC on my car.  Hey, I'd like to see you in a car with black leather interior an no tint on the windows in 30+ degree heat (that's Celsius for my American readership) and see how long you'd last without AC!  You can't put a price on that, my friend.  When the cool, sweet breezes flow from the vents on my dashboard, I know I made the right decision.

I Just Have to Share This With Y'all

I just watched this video of an incredible cat and an even more incredible veterinarian.  Truly amazing!