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Jett Superior laid this on you on || August 5, 2004 || 11:57 am

Things I wish I would have otherwise known.

Last night I stayed up late, sorting. Okay, you got me. I was really looking for something, a piece of paper that is supposed to be Very Importanttm but that I seem to have lost track of.

*rubs toe in dirt*

*looks at sky*

I was looking, then, and as I am wont to do in such sitations, I got distracted: “Oooooh! Shiny things!” I began to sort paperwork in the file cabinet, putting things in their rightful places, pulling out really old and needless stuff, gutting and piling. By the time I looked up and saw that it was three ay emm (“COURT!! I’ve gotta be at the courthouse in FIVE HOURS!”), I had half a dozen piles around me. Not wanting to just shove all my hard work into a drawer before properly punching-and-pronging, I smiled lovingly at it and told it I’d return tomorrow, same Bat Time, same Bat Channel. Then I went to bed.

When the alarm jangled me awake this morning, Maxim greeted me glumly with the information that the hot water heater had decided to take a walk without first informing us, so it was cold showers or no showers atall. Let’s see….taking three kids to the park: Swipe the pits with a rag, give ‘er the ole one-two with the cologne and bravely face the day. Testifying before various, assorted legal ‘professionals’: Best to groom one’s self with (kinda) the utmost of care.

So we elected to go in shifts to the Mom-In-Law’s, with Maxim and Mathias going first and then me after they had departed to work and preschool.

I had the best time in the world, let me tell you. I think everyone should shower at someone else’s house every couple of weeks now. It’s like going to Coney Island (back when Coney Island was the place to be), I swear. You get to smell all the soaps and body mousse and shampoos; you’re free to do a little test run while fully naked and rinse-able with all the sample product you could ever hope to poke a stick at! Plus, there’s the newness of a different shower head. That in an of itself is like going on vacation or sommat.

So I will call Roxie tonight and thank her for the use of the facilities and offer a little proposal: Shower-Swapping. All of the thrill and none of the danger, since we both know that the other has excellent taste in washroom accoutrements. If she balks and says no, then I’ll simply make a list of friends I know with attractive bathrooms and/or (most especially) tubside treats and pick up the phone. Most of my true, true friends are gimped in the brain like me and might give it a whirl at least once. I figure for six, maybe seven, of the coming months I can have a ‘vacation shower’ at least once a month.

I checked my messages this morning; Maxim got someone to the house post-haste. I kept thinking something didn’t feel right, but I was much pleased with his expediency. Oh well.

For all my bitching and bellyaching at times, there are days when small-town living is quite tasty and (dare I say it?) interesting.

Today, for instance. Yesterday afternoon I bought a nice backpack for one of the foster kids whose case I handle. I had seen the way that she inwardly cringed (albeit briefly, and she didn’t realize I caught that bit) when handed the state-supplied pack stuffed with school supplies and I resolved to go get her one that was a tad more fashionable for someone Eleven, The Ripe Old Age Of. School supplies should –byGOD!– be FUN! So I went and got this cute little pale blue (her verymostfavorite color) corduroy Jansport thing and thought that having it monogrammed for a bit more personal touch would be nice.

Okay, yesterday I bought the pack. Today I went and dropped it off to my mortgage lady to slap an initial on there.

This is the magnificence of small-town living: My mortgage lady does all my monogramming; she is also a foster mom to two of my cases. I used to drink beer and play music with one of her sons, do hard drugs with another and casually date yet another. Now she is a grandmomma; all the sons are happily married with kids and we all barbeque together and sometimes leave the kids with her so that we can roadtrip to a concert or music festival. Our children, sporting lovingly- and well-monogrammed jackets, will likely do the same one day. Plus, they will do it all with a Southerin Accent.

If heaven ain’t a lot like Dixie, I don’t wanna go, y’all.

I arrived home to see that the hotwaterheaterguy had been there, and I realized the source of my earlier discomfort: he had stacked all of my piles neatly atop one another and placed them atop my desk. Neatly atop those was the bra I’d taken off in a fit of filebusting pique. Beside it all was my oh-so-pretty wineglass (that I’d also left sitting in the floor) with just a wee smidge of roh-zay in the bottom.

So great. The man that will be coming back here in a few short moments to complete his maintenancely task already has me pictured as a Drunken, Careless, Fast-and-Loose, Naked-Breasted Filer O’ Paper. He probably imagines that I’ve not had my daily shower yet, either. Shit, shit, triple-shit.

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In other news, I was so emboldened by the fact that the chicken microroasterwaver-thingy that the Crazy Purple Neighbor Porch Lady listed at an opening bid of one small dollah went for upwards of forty bucks that I, too, have decided to once again join the eBay fray. Only, this time all proceeds (as with CPNPL’s auctions) go to the Scotland trip. More on this in a minute. Like, one-thousand, four-hundred and forty of them.

4 worked it out »

  1. sugarmama 8.5.2004

    I’ve been taking vacation showers for the last six weeks, in the guest bathroom. I got tired of seeing pink tile in my own shower, and it was dirty, so rather than clean it, I just moved to the shower on the other side of the house. Just for the summer.

     
  2. Jettomatika 8.6.2004

    FUCKING RIGHT!

    Who needs initiative when you have two baths all to yourself??

     
  3. when i was in the industry we designed and installed a shower lined with Zincalume featuring a drench. A drench is what a morbidly obese shower head wants to be when it grows up.

    You have, like, a regular shower, but there’s a chain hanging from the ceiling that facilitates the immediate release of a 15 inch perfectly solid and round column of water on yer cute wee bubbly self.

    Amen.

     
  4. RobboBobbo 8.6.2004

    “Drunken, Careless, Fast-and-Loose, Naked-Breasted Filer O’ Paper.” I’d say he has you pegged.

    Pee Ess.. Is it wrong that I am totally aroused that you file braless?

    Hope me and hotwaterheaterguy aren’t the only ones…

     

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