The electrician came, did nothing, then took a dump in my toilet. I cannot go into the bathroom for fear of death by stench. A generalised stereotype this may be, but why are all handyman so revolting!?
I am loosing chunks off my teeth. Life is not my friend. I want to kick it in the balls and spit in its face.
Holy crap.
Taken from my VOX:
At around 3:30am last night/ this morning, I was woken from my sleep by a loud "BANG!". In my hazy sleep induced state, I thought that maybe it was just the crazy antics of my loud neighbours. But then came a continuous crackling / clicking sound that drove me into consciousness and forced me out of bed. My initial thought was that maybe my metal clothes horses has fallen over (hence the BANG), hit a pipe or tube of the washing machine, somehow broke it flung it out and now there's water dripping and flooding my bathroom (hence the clicking, which could quite possibly be dripping, sound). Is that not quite an impressive deduction in a fraction of a second while not fully awake? But anyway, I was wrong, and when I got to the bathroom the sight was more shocking that I had imagined…..
One entire glass wall of my shower had cracked and broke!
The whole entire fucking thing!
On its own!
At 3:30am!
WTF????
So, there was a state of shock, then panic, then a wave of total and utter helplessness and misery of being all by myself and not a fucking idea what to do.
There was glass over the floor of the bathroom and the whole thing is still crackling very loudly, which freaked me out even more, cos what if it all collapses in a big heap of broken glass?
So….. I tried calling the boy in Canberra, which is probably a bit of useless thing to do, but that’s kinda my auto response in times of crises. He’s phone rang out…. like 4 times. Then I dug out the number of my agent for urgent repairs and called the after hours mobile, which went to voice mail - well, DUH! its 3:40am, what was I expecting? A little man perched by the phone 24/7? So I left a message, then I tired calling my parents. Just so happens they’re in Sydney for a swimming comp, the home number is diverted to dad’s mobile, which is switched off. I dialled mum, who hung up on me 4 or 5 times, became unavailable, then hung up on me another 2 times! When she eventually answered she said she thought it was her alarm going off and she was just trying to turn the phone off when my last call went though. OH-MY-FUCKING-GOD! I explained what happened and asked what to do, to which she said to just leave it til the morning, cos there’s nothing I can do at 4am. True.
45mins later, the mind clinching crackling sound subdued to quieter and less frequent clicks here and there. The whole sheet - less the bits on the ground - is still standing upright, which is slightly comforting. I tried the boy’s number another 3 or 4 times to no avail, had a cry on the floor, and crawled back to bed.
This morning I called the agent again at 9am, as no one had bothered calling me back, despite the panic stricken voice mail I had left 5 and half hours ago. I had to leave another message - at least with a human this time - as the property manager was in a meeting. She eventually got back to me, and even came around to assess the situation cos she was in the area, and also I suspect to check that I hadn’t actually broke the damn thing myself.
So the good news is, it will get fixed. But the bad news is, it wont be until Monday. But the good news is, someone should be able to come around today to assess it and hopefully take down the shattered sheet. But the bad news is I wont have one wall of the shower for the next two days and wont be able to wash myself without spraying the entire bathroom.
Ah Monday, something to look forward to and dread, as I will also be having an electrician come to fix my stove top - at 8 frigin am! WHY IS THIS PLACE FALLING APART????
P.S. I need to pee, but I cant get to the toilet, so now I have to run down stairs to Starbucks! #@&*$!#% indeed!!!
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Update:
The glass man came and took down the broken glass. He was a lovely fella, but boy! was he in serious need of a shower, or some heavy duty deoderant. I was trying hard not to pass out, while still being helpful.
I had to sacrifice a bed sheet in the process as he needed a sheet to cover one side of the glass as he smashed it all into the shower to be scooped up. It was a loud and messy process. He then duct tapped the edges of the frame - still with the last chunks of glass that couldn’t be removed - and told me to vacuum a bit so I wont cut my pretty little feet.
There will be no new glass on Monday, as he will have to order it and it takes around 4-5 days to be delivered. He will return in 4-5 days with the new glass and a helping hand, partly because the poor guy has a broken arm and a broken foot (bless him for still doing the job), and partly because the structure of my shower is such that the glass is ‘’partially framed'’, which apparently means a trickier job involving more than one person and a few tools.
In the mean time? He’s advice: ‘’put a plastic bag over the toilet when you shower'’. Err…… yes……
So I vacuumed like crazy, which is a big task as I have an aversion to vacuuming. But I’m still paranoid that I’m seeing random tiny teeny glass dust sparkles. I’ve washed my hands about 5 times, but still feel as though they sense little pricks. I rinsed all the plastic buckets and bins that had glass land in them, as well as the dust pan and brush. I vacuumed the bottom of the vacuum cleaner, then took the vacuum head out into the hall way and gave it a smack down on the carpet, along with my slippers. I will not be using the sheet on my bed again, and I’m throwing out the rest of my toilet paper as the rolls look to have glass dust on them. Slightly over the top? I donno. My body winces as I think about the bathroom. And now I have no toilet paper.
The blog has been sparse lately because I cannot bring myself to write about the dramas that’s been unfolding. I have had to move house. My nearest and dearest has packed up his life in the two bedroom unit we shared and moved back to Canberra. I now live alone in a one bedroom apartment in the Melbourne CBD. It’s a nice apartment, but filled with my feelings of loneliness and emptiness. The some 700 km distance makes my heart ache – a twisted sick feeling like I’ve been punched in the stomach and want to vomit. I toss and turn in the queen sized bed we once shared, now too large and empty for my small frame, and end up weeping into my pillow as sleep evades me every night.
He told me that this will only be temporary, but I cannot see a perfect resolution in the near future, perhaps not even in this year. So since the distance between us can’t be reduced, I can only hope that the sorrow and pain will ease soon, because even I’m getting sick of myself. And that’s not good, considering now all I have is myself.
The last few days of packing and moving all my shit (and I have a lot of shit. how the hell did i accumulate so much shit?) to storage was totally ex-haus-ting! We did it all in two days between the two of us. I’m shamed to say that for the most part I behaved like the weak girl that I am and limped around lifting the light stuff. I told my family how tough it was, and my dad, who’s always giving me a hard time for my er… lifestyle of choice, jumped at the opportunity and said that I’m too piss weak and that I should be able to ‘’piggy back a fridge and run with it'’. I’m like WTF? Yes, if I was a massively butch weight lifter maybe! And the rest of the family laughed and made jokes about me being a super strength weight lifter in disguise.
Anyway, so I’m in Canberra now. And I’m so over being stressed out and busy, I just wanna sit on my ass and do nothing. I need a few days to recuperate. But alas, tis the season to be busy. It’s my grandad’s 80th in a few days, and upon my arrival at the family home, I was told that its my job to organise the cake and presents. Mum is sending me out to shop for the birthday present, plus Christmas presents. We dont celebrate nor believe in Christmas, but she insists that eveyone gets a present every year just for the fun of it. Joy. I’m trying to put off the having-to-leave-the-house-and-face-the-insane-pre-Christmas-shopping-world for as long as I can, but time is my enemy. You can see I’m beyond tired when I’m put off by the idea of shopping!
*Le sigh!* I think its also the unhappiness overload of the whole moving situation that’s making me feel totally bummed and drained. URG! I want/need some zest back into life.
Looking at the last post, nothing much has changed/happened. The intense pressure/stress of moving/losing has been my constant companion/demon. I cry a lot. I ask for answers. A lot. I’m yet to find any. At least not one that soothes my heart. Intense waves of emotions. I act like a mad woman, a weak child, an empty shell.
I want something good to happen. Please.
School’s out.
BF’s leaving.
One of my best friends is getting married.
More excitement than I can handle.
I don’t want to have to move house, I don’t want to be on my own, I don’t want you to leave. Why must you take away everything I’ve come to feel so comfortable and happy with?
I can even make pumpkin pie and chocolate pancakes, is that not enough?
Things have been happening, and they haven’t been happening. I might be falling apart at the seams. We might be unravelling. How I wish I had learnt how to sew. Then I can at least attempt to stitch the fraying pieces.
Friday the 13th came and went without so much as a broken finger nail. It was said to be the grandaddy of black Fridays because of the date. 13-10-2006 (or 10-13-2006 if you prefer) adds up to be 13, which happens only once in many lifetimes. I’m not a superstitious person, but in between being all alone in a house that likes to make random noises at night and the neighbour’s warning about crazy violent knockings at her front door, one can never be too cautious.
I’ve been left behind to fend for myself in an empty house for a week and one day now, while the Boy frolics and bbq’s in the sunshine some 700 kilometers away. J/k. He is away for serious matters (the frolicking came secondary), and I’ve been spending my time moping around the house being [even more] unproductive. I’ve come to depend on him for many things, and when left alone I become a mess of scattered clothes, empty fridge, burnt toast and dusty floors. This dependency is not cute, what man would want a girl who lacks the skills of stocking the fridge and toasting bread? I can’t begin to imagine what horrors will unfold when I do have to live on my own again.
I’ve been thinking and assessing the balance in the relationship, and concluded the following:
He’s strong points: capable of doing just about everything, tho needs nagging at times
My strong points: nagging
So you see, without him my brilliant skills will be at a lost.
- - -
These last few days have been unseasonably warm. The moment I step out the door and feel the heat of the sun, my mood brightens and I have to urge to skip down the street flinging my arms in joy. (Un?)Fortunately, my fear of social judgement prevents me from acting like a total lunatic, and to compensate I play dress up instead. A pretty day needs a pretty outfit to match. On the weekend I overhauled my wardrobe, putting away all the heavy winter gear and brought out the copious amount of singles, shorts and dresses that’s been in storage for the past six months (due to the on-going conflict between the lack of wardrobe space vs. a few too many pieces of clothing). This is always an exciting process as I rediscover items that I have forgotten about. So it’s almost like going shopping but without spending money. One of the best rediscoveries was a pair of cute red shoes that I bought when I was in China at the end of June and had completely forgotten about. They were still new and wrapped in plastic. I was as giddy as kid with a new present, and gave them a good work out with a cute sun dress on Wednesday. They may not be the most comfortable shoes, but the ‘’I love your shoes'’ comments I got through out the day made the blisters on my heels well worth it.
Oh yeah. I forgot the password to my old flickr account, and cannot remember it for the life of me. A new one has been created, with some photos from Mt Dandenong uploaded, the old one still exists and I cant even get to it to delete it. Darn it!
Ahoy there.
School’s out for a week. Well, we’re already half way through that week. The so-called break is just to deceive us poor students into thinking it’s a week of ho-li-da-aays, when in fact its just one week of no classes but many assignments. I had good intentions of doing a lot of work, but thus far they’ve yet to manifest into actions.
I’m spending a short while in Canberra to hang out with the family. My guilt of being a less than perfect daughter/sister has me devoting this short stay mainly to family time. But again, good intentions don’t necessarily manifest into perfect reality.
Canberra. The sense of old familiarity. Nothing seems to change.
Some times I feel a tad disheartened at this whole Multimedia business… at the prospect of trying, wanting to become a designer. That little voice in my head says who am I kidding? Every man and his Adobe suite claims to be a designer. Its such a tough industry where supply greatly exceeds demand. The internet is overstocked with people oozing talent from their pores. And I’m trudging along in my little course producing mediocre pieces of work.
Aiyah.
.
.
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Is this not the most perfect dip you have ever seen? Look at the exquisite finish.
Bellissimo
And now, a photo live (somewhat) from Peru.
Look here, cute little rodents you see? Actually, these little critters are just waiting their turn on the chopping block. You see, guinea pigs make a fine Peruvian dish.
