When the man-friend and I moved in to our tiny, one-bedroom apartment (aka the love nest) at the end of August, we noticed a few...quirks. Loveable ones, for the most part. Like the white man's shirt hanging in the hall closet. (Oh my god, I just reread that...I mean the man's shirt which is white, not like the shirt than can only be worn by the white man or some twisted shit like that. Great first impression, Jocelyn!) And the collector's popcorn bucket from The Golden Compass (aka The Atheist Narnia) under the sink. Others were less loveable. Like the fruit flies (more on them later). And the missing tile in the shower that exposed a small hole in the bathroom wall.
Now, this missing tile didn't originally seem like a huge problem. Sure, there was a small hole, but it was shielded by the soap dish, and the building superintendent dude would be by to fix it before any real damage was done, right?
WRONG.
The other day I was showering away, minding my own business, when the soap dish, which had been diligently shielding the hole in the wall from filling up with water, suddenly quit. The soap dish, and A LARGE CHUNK OF THE WALL, decided to jump ship and attack me in my vulnerable showering state!!
And do you know what your gut reaction is when a soap dish and part of a wall try to attack your feet? (Probably not, because I doubt this is a common occurrence in anyone's life, and if it is, WTF?) YOU JUMP. Which is really not the smartest thing to do when you're naked, wet and slippery. (Your mom is naked, wet and slippery!) Anyway, I lived. But BARELY.
So I called the building superintendent and was all like WTF THE SOAP DISH TRIED TO KILL ME and he laughed at me and then told me he would come first thing Monday morning to fix it. Excellent.
Monday morning rolls around, and I get up at 8:30 to ensure that I am up when he comes to fix the demon hole in the shower. And I wait. And wait. And wait. And then I have to leave for class at noon and THERE IS STILL A DEMON HOLE IN MY SHOWER. At like 7:30 p.m. he calls me and is all like "Oh! I came by at 1 p.m. and you weren't there!" Because 1 p.m. is now first thing in the morning. Right. Anyway, now he's coming at 1 p.m. tomorrow. And if he's not here by 1:30, I am going to march up to his apartment (oh yeah, did I mention he lives right above me? showing up on time should soooo not be an issue) and be like COME DOWNSTAIRS OR I WILL ROT YOUR WALL BY SHOWERING SEVEN TIMES A DAY. True story.
Now, this missing tile didn't originally seem like a huge problem. Sure, there was a small hole, but it was shielded by the soap dish, and the building superintendent dude would be by to fix it before any real damage was done, right?
WRONG.
The other day I was showering away, minding my own business, when the soap dish, which had been diligently shielding the hole in the wall from filling up with water, suddenly quit. The soap dish, and A LARGE CHUNK OF THE WALL, decided to jump ship and attack me in my vulnerable showering state!!
And do you know what your gut reaction is when a soap dish and part of a wall try to attack your feet? (Probably not, because I doubt this is a common occurrence in anyone's life, and if it is, WTF?) YOU JUMP. Which is really not the smartest thing to do when you're naked, wet and slippery. (Your mom is naked, wet and slippery!) Anyway, I lived. But BARELY.
So I called the building superintendent and was all like WTF THE SOAP DISH TRIED TO KILL ME and he laughed at me and then told me he would come first thing Monday morning to fix it. Excellent.
Monday morning rolls around, and I get up at 8:30 to ensure that I am up when he comes to fix the demon hole in the shower. And I wait. And wait. And wait. And then I have to leave for class at noon and THERE IS STILL A DEMON HOLE IN MY SHOWER. At like 7:30 p.m. he calls me and is all like "Oh! I came by at 1 p.m. and you weren't there!" Because 1 p.m. is now first thing in the morning. Right. Anyway, now he's coming at 1 p.m. tomorrow. And if he's not here by 1:30, I am going to march up to his apartment (oh yeah, did I mention he lives right above me? showing up on time should soooo not be an issue) and be like COME DOWNSTAIRS OR I WILL ROT YOUR WALL BY SHOWERING SEVEN TIMES A DAY. True story.
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