AUTHOR: Beth TITLE: Domesticity DATE: 12/30/2004 01:44:00 PM ----- BODY:
Drawing totally, blatantly stolen from this guy.
Not sure what my deal is today. I keep opening Blogger, then closing it again, then opening it, then closing it. I oscillate between I don't feel like writing today to, of course I'll write today, there's no "feel like" about it. Perhaps I'm just overwhelmed by ammonia fumes from the copious amounts of Fantastik! I slathered around my apartment today. I even walked on the wild side and also used bleach to soak the drain plug from the bathtub that exists for no other purpose, since we never take baths, than to sit in the corner of the shower and be utterly disgusting, collecting black mold. Apparently, the mold began to spread its spores throughout the bathroom recently (a fact which I did not notice until there was quite an advanced case of tiny black dots on the wall above the shower). So today, I got a chair from the kitchen (I had a pipe dream of actually being motivated enough to go over to my parents' house and borrow their stepladder, but abandoned it today as I knew I would), balanced it in the bathtub as best I could, and--attempting to clear my mind of all thoughts of the show I once saw on the deadly stachybotrys altra mold (which caused idiopathic pulmonary hemosiderosis)--had at the mold with the Fantastik!, which is where the ammonia comes in, and we all know mixing ammonia and bleach will release chloramine gas, which tends to ruin your whole day. Well, I never actually mixed the two--they were just both deployed within the same space...and as yet I'm not feeling as if I'm suffering from acute pulmonary edema, so the whole ammonia / bleach deal is probably not the reason for my fogheadedness, although that might be fun, wouldn't it? Sorry. These are just the weird things I tend to think about. Anyway, the laundry's been done, the vacuuming is accomplished, the black mold has been vanquished, I have bathed, dressed and consumed caffeine. A little nicotine, and we'll be ready to go. Though it might seem like a supremely boring way to spend a vacation, there's really something to be said for--though I hate this word, it's the type of word someone attempting to create inappropriate intimacy with you uses--"nesting" (euggh). After a while you get lost in scrubbing, rinsing, dusting, folding, packing, organizing, lost in your possessions, lost in the trappings and detritus you give off just by existing, and there's a sense of satisfaction, a sense of there, now... that is actually pretty good therapy. Which I need, as is probably readily obvious.