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ouboinalame
Member Since: 11/21/2008 7:00:59 AMLast Seen: 12/22/2008 6:32:29 AM
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Posted 12/22/2008 6:32:52 AM
Greater love hath no woman than that she spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon cleaning her laid-up sweetie's rental unit, so that the new tenants can move in tomorrow to something other than a pigsty.(He said, "I *think* [former tenant] probably did an OK job cleaning, but--can you just check it out?" And I said, "Sure thing," knowing in my heart that [former tenant], being a feckless young single male, was likely to be afflicted with Young Single Male Syndrome, Lack-of-Basic-Cleanliness Subtype, and -- yup, I was right.)I didn't actually mind the cleaning so much (except for scrubbing the bathtub, which had a fine collection of random pubic hairs, eeuuwww eeuuwwww eeeuuwwww), but--the place is so sad. It's not a Fraser's-Chicago-apartment kind of dump, but it's basically cheap student housing in a saggy older building, and though it's reasonably well-kept, you still have ... oh, you know, the baseboards and molding that are thick with innumerable lumpy coats of dingy paint, and the hideous ceiling light fixtures, and the places where the baseboards have pulled away from the floor over the decades and an impenetrable residue of gnir has accumulated in the crack that cannot be vacuumed out. The ugly contact paper inside the kitchen cabinets that is vaguely sticky, and has begun to curl up dingily at the corners. The scuffed wooden floors that are speckled with white paint (because whoever did the last paint job apparently never heard of that new-fangled contraption, the dropcloth) and hence always look dirty, no matter how much you sweep.I have lived in so. many. places like that, in my earlier years, and being there today brought back dismal memories of all my bleak old apartments and rooming-house cubicles, and my hopeless efforts to brighten them up on the cheap, with thumbtacked posters and rattan screens and whatnot. I guess they're not too bad if one's young and full of vim and hope and "whee, my own place at last!"--and I tell myself that after all, that place is better housing than most of the world's population inhabits--but still. Sadness.I came home, peeled off all my clothes, took a long hot scrubbing shower, and am now wandering around with a beer, loving my house. My beautiful, elegant, well-designed and well-built house. It's kind of a mess right now, but it is free of contact paper, and there's no paint-spackle anywhere, and all the baseboards (maple, clean-lined, unpainted) meet the floorboard snugly, and I love it. I'm so very lucky. And I shall clean up here tomorrow.
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Posted 12/22/2008 6:32:36 AM
Greater love hath no woman than that she spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon cleaning her laid-up sweetie's rental unit, so that the new tenants can move in tomorrow to something other than a pigsty.(He said, "I *think* [former tenant] probably did an OK job cleaning, but--can you just check it out?" And I said, "Sure thing," knowing in my heart that [former tenant], being a feckless young single male, was likely to be afflicted with Young Single Male Syndrome, Lack-of-Basic-Cleanliness Subtype, and -- yup, I was right.)I didn't actually mind the cleaning so much (except for scrubbing the bathtub, which had a fine collection of random pubic hairs, eeuuwww eeuuwwww eeeuuwwww), but--the place is so sad. It's not a Fraser's-Chicago-apartment kind of dump, but it's basically cheap student housing in a saggy older building, and though it's reasonably well-kept, you still have ... oh, you know, the baseboards and molding that are thick with innumerable lumpy coats of dingy paint, and the hideous ceiling light fixtures, and the places where the baseboards have pulled away from the floor over the decades and an impenetrable residue of gnir has accumulated in the crack that cannot be vacuumed out. The ugly contact paper inside the kitchen cabinets that is vaguely sticky, and has begun to curl up dingily at the corners. The scuffed wooden floors that are speckled with white paint (because whoever did the last paint job apparently never heard of that new-fangled contraption, the dropcloth) and hence always look dirty, no matter how much you sweep.I have lived in so. many. places like that, in my earlier years, and being there today brought back dismal memories of all my bleak old apartments and rooming-house cubicles, and my hopeless efforts to brighten them up on the cheap, with thumbtacked posters and rattan screens and whatnot. I guess they're not too bad if one's young and full of vim and hope and "whee, my own place at last!"--and I tell myself that after all, that place is better housing than most of the world's population inhabits--but still. Sadness.I came home, peeled off all my clothes, took a long hot scrubbing shower, and am now wandering around with a beer, loving my house. My beautiful, elegant, well-designed and well-built house. It's kind of a mess right now, but it is free of contact paper, and there's no paint-spackle anywhere, and all the baseboards (maple, clean-lined, unpainted) meet the floorboard snugly, and I love it. I'm so very lucky. And I shall clean up here tomorrow.
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Posted 12/22/2008 6:32:24 AM
Greater love hath no woman than that she spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon cleaning her laid-up sweetie's rental unit, so that the new tenants can move in tomorrow to something other than a pigsty.(He said, "I *think* [former tenant] probably did an OK job cleaning, but--can you just check it out?" And I said, "Sure thing," knowing in my heart that [former tenant], being a feckless young single male, was likely to be afflicted with Young Single Male Syndrome, Lack-of-Basic-Cleanliness Subtype, and -- yup, I was right.)I didn't actually mind the cleaning so much (except for scrubbing the bathtub, which had a fine collection of random pubic hairs, eeuuwww eeuuwwww eeeuuwwww), but--the place is so sad. It's not a Fraser's-Chicago-apartment kind of dump, but it's basically cheap student housing in a saggy older building, and though it's reasonably well-kept, you still have ... oh, you know, the baseboards and molding that are thick with innumerable lumpy coats of dingy paint, and the hideous ceiling light fixtures, and the places where the baseboards have pulled away from the floor over the decades and an impenetrable residue of gnir has accumulated in the crack that cannot be vacuumed out. The ugly contact paper inside the kitchen cabinets that is vaguely sticky, and has begun to curl up dingily at the corners. The scuffed wooden floors that are speckled with white paint (because whoever did the last paint job apparently never heard of that new-fangled contraption, the dropcloth) and hence always look dirty, no matter how much you sweep.I have lived in so. many. places like that, in my earlier years, and being there today brought back dismal memories of all my bleak old apartments and rooming-house cubicles, and my hopeless efforts to brighten them up on the cheap, with thumbtacked posters and rattan screens and whatnot. I guess they're not too bad if one's young and full of vim and hope and "whee, my own place at last!"--and I tell myself that after all, that place is better housing than most of the world's population inhabits--but still. Sadness.I came home, peeled off all my clothes, took a long hot scrubbing shower, and am now wandering around with a beer, loving my house. My beautiful, elegant, well-designed and well-built house. It's kind of a mess right now, but it is free of contact paper, and there's no paint-spackle anywhere, and all the baseboards (maple, clean-lined, unpainted) meet the floorboard snugly, and I love it. I'm so very lucky. And I shall clean up here tomorrow.
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Posted 12/22/2008 6:32:16 AM
Greater love hath no woman than that she spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon cleaning her laid-up sweetie's rental unit, so that the new tenants can move in tomorrow to something other than a pigsty.(He said, "I *think* [former tenant] probably did an OK job cleaning, but--can you just check it out?" And I said, "Sure thing," knowing in my heart that [former tenant], being a feckless young single male, was likely to be afflicted with Young Single Male Syndrome, Lack-of-Basic-Cleanliness Subtype, and -- yup, I was right.)I didn't actually mind the cleaning so much (except for scrubbing the bathtub, which had a fine collection of random pubic hairs, eeuuwww eeuuwwww eeeuuwwww), but--the place is so sad. It's not a Fraser's-Chicago-apartment kind of dump, but it's basically cheap student housing in a saggy older building, and though it's reasonably well-kept, you still have ... oh, you know, the baseboards and molding that are thick with innumerable lumpy coats of dingy paint, and the hideous ceiling light fixtures, and the places where the baseboards have pulled away from the floor over the decades and an impenetrable residue of gnir has accumulated in the crack that cannot be vacuumed out. The ugly contact paper inside the kitchen cabinets that is vaguely sticky, and has begun to curl up dingily at the corners. The scuffed wooden floors that are speckled with white paint (because whoever did the last paint job apparently never heard of that new-fangled contraption, the dropcloth) and hence always look dirty, no matter how much you sweep.I have lived in so. many. places like that, in my earlier years, and being there today brought back dismal memories of all my bleak old apartments and rooming-house cubicles, and my hopeless efforts to brighten them up on the cheap, with thumbtacked posters and rattan screens and whatnot. I guess they're not too bad if one's young and full of vim and hope and "whee, my own place at last!"--and I tell myself that after all, that place is better housing than most of the world's population inhabits--but still. Sadness.I came home, peeled off all my clothes, took a long hot scrubbing shower, and am now wandering around with a beer, loving my house. My beautiful, elegant, well-designed and well-built house. It's kind of a mess right now, but it is free of contact paper, and there's no paint-spackle anywhere, and all the baseboards (maple, clean-lined, unpainted) meet the floorboard snugly, and I love it. I'm so very lucky. And I shall clean up here tomorrow.
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Posted 12/22/2008 6:31:29 AM
Greater love hath no woman than that she spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon cleaning her laid-up sweetie's rental unit, so that the new tenants can move in tomorrow to something other than a pigsty.(He said, "I *think* [former tenant] probably did an OK job cleaning, but--can you just check it out?" And I said, "Sure thing," knowing in my heart that [former tenant], being a feckless young single male, was likely to be afflicted with Young Single Male Syndrome, Lack-of-Basic-Cleanliness Subtype, and -- yup, I was right.)I didn't actually mind the cleaning so much (except for scrubbing the bathtub, which had a fine collection of random pubic hairs, eeuuwww eeuuwwww eeeuuwwww), but--the place is so sad. It's not a Fraser's-Chicago-apartment kind of dump, but it's basically cheap student housing in a saggy older building, and though it's reasonably well-kept, you still have ... oh, you know, the baseboards and molding that are thick with innumerable lumpy coats of dingy paint, and the hideous ceiling light fixtures, and the places where the baseboards have pulled away from the floor over the decades and an impenetrable residue of gnir has accumulated in the crack that cannot be vacuumed out. The ugly contact paper inside the kitchen cabinets that is vaguely sticky, and has begun to curl up dingily at the corners. The scuffed wooden floors that are speckled with white paint (because whoever did the last paint job apparently never heard of that new-fangled contraption, the dropcloth) and hence always look dirty, no matter how much you sweep.I have lived in so. many. places like that, in my earlier years, and being there today brought back dismal memories of all my bleak old apartments and rooming-house cubicles, and my hopeless efforts to brighten them up on the cheap, with thumbtacked posters and rattan screens and whatnot. I guess they're not too bad if one's young and full of vim and hope and "whee, my own place at last!"--and I tell myself that after all, that place is better housing than most of the world's population inhabits--but still. Sadness.I came home, peeled off all my clothes, took a long hot scrubbing shower, and am now wandering around with a beer, loving my house. My beautiful, elegant, well-designed and well-built house. It's kind of a mess right now, but it is free of contact paper, and there's no paint-spackle anywhere, and all the baseboards (maple, clean-lined, unpainted) meet the floorboard snugly, and I love it. I'm so very lucky. And I shall clean up here tomorrow.
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Posted 12/22/2008 6:31:11 AM
Greater love hath no woman than that she spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon cleaning her laid-up sweetie's rental unit, so that the new tenants can move in tomorrow to something other than a pigsty.(He said, "I *think* [former tenant] probably did an OK job cleaning, but--can you just check it out?" And I said, "Sure thing," knowing in my heart that [former tenant], being a feckless young single male, was likely to be afflicted with Young Single Male Syndrome, Lack-of-Basic-Cleanliness Subtype, and -- yup, I was right.)I didn't actually mind the cleaning so much (except for scrubbing the bathtub, which had a fine collection of random pubic hairs, eeuuwww eeuuwwww eeeuuwwww), but--the place is so sad. It's not a Fraser's-Chicago-apartment kind of dump, but it's basically cheap student housing in a saggy older building, and though it's reasonably well-kept, you still have ... oh, you know, the baseboards and molding that are thick with innumerable lumpy coats of dingy paint, and the hideous ceiling light fixtures, and the places where the baseboards have pulled away from the floor over the decades and an impenetrable residue of gnir has accumulated in the crack that cannot be vacuumed out. The ugly contact paper inside the kitchen cabinets that is vaguely sticky, and has begun to curl up dingily at the corners. The scuffed wooden floors that are speckled with white paint (because whoever did the last paint job apparently never heard of that new-fangled contraption, the dropcloth) and hence always look dirty, no matter how much you sweep.I have lived in so. many. places like that, in my earlier years, and being there today brought back dismal memories of all my bleak old apartments and rooming-house cubicles, and my hopeless efforts to brighten them up on the cheap, with thumbtacked posters and rattan screens and whatnot. I guess they're not too bad if one's young and full of vim and hope and "whee, my own place at last!"--and I tell myself that after all, that place is better housing than most of the world's population inhabits--but still. Sadness.I came home, peeled off all my clothes, took a long hot scrubbing shower, and am now wandering around with a beer, loving my house. My beautiful, elegant, well-designed and well-built house. It's kind of a mess right now, but it is free of contact paper, and there's no paint-spackle anywhere, and all the baseboards (maple, clean-lined, unpainted) meet the floorboard snugly, and I love it. I'm so very lucky. And I shall clean up here tomorrow.
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Posted 12/17/2008 3:30:35 PM
4:30 a.m., coffee is brewing, and I am up and at 'em like one of the older and more sluggish larks. I made it home safely from VividCon (after skulking out in mid-panel and driving off furtively, because god, I hate saying goodbyes). And VividCon was fabulous--wonderful vids, wonderful panels, and amazingly wonderful people (whom I implore to post con reports/reviews, because I sure as hell am not gonna have the time to). HAPPY BIRTHDAY velvey_moon I hope all your birthday wishes come true. . And kormantic did not get blown away in the hurricane! I am counting over these good things, because I need to be reminded that there is *some* good stuff in the Parade of Fucking Disaster that's been steamrolling through the past few weeks. When I started reading stories in fandom. . aerye didn't get to the con, which alone would have been sad enough, but the reason for her absence is heartbreaking (death of a beloved friend). I'm sending all possible good vibes toward gwyn_r and her sister, and of course toward ardent_muses.And I came home to discover that my ex-partner's mother--a wonderful, funny, loving, delightful human being--died over the weekend. Eating dinner with her husband, he got up to go to the bathroom for a few minutes, she inhaled something, choked, and was dead by the time he got back to the dining room. Though I hadn't seen her often in the decade or so since S. and I split, still for many years she was like family to me, and I'm still sort of in shock. And her funeral is at exactly the same time as P.'s surgery, but I think I can make it to the visitation tonight, although by rights I ought to be at work until about midnight tonight trying to get caught up.But the con was truly wonderful, and although this was in any logical sense a terrible weekend for me to be gone, I'm still so glad I went. Celebration, Itchings, Resolution, Languages, Pressies, Zzzleep..... . P. is in good spirits and ready for his surgery (while driving home I had a major anxiety-spazz that he'd be pissed at me for being gone, and by the time I reached Madison I was already playing out in my head the details of how he was going to dump me, but he was fine).And now I must slam down some coffee and motor in to work, because I also discovered, on listening to my answering machine last night, that my administrative assistant is coming back a week early from her medical leave, which is emphatically of the good (my wonderful, mentally-organized, methodical, detail-oriented assistant!) except that I've been using her office a lot and have left it in my habitual state of utter smoldering chaos, and so I have to beat her in and do the high-speed clean-up.So I close with a little message to the Gods of Random Tragedy: Guys? You've made your point, whatever it was. You can let up now. Really..
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Posted 12/17/2008 3:29:58 PM
4:30 a.m., coffee is brewing, and I am up and at 'em like one of the older and more sluggish larks. I made it home safely from VividCon (after skulking out in mid-panel and driving off furtively, because god, I hate saying goodbyes). And VividCon was fabulous--wonderful vids, wonderful panels, and amazingly wonderful people (whom I implore to post con reports/reviews, because I sure as hell am not gonna have the time to). HAPPY BIRTHDAY velvey_moon I hope all your birthday wishes come true. . And kormantic did not get blown away in the hurricane! I am counting over these good things, because I need to be reminded that there is *some* good stuff in the Parade of Fucking Disaster that's been steamrolling through the past few weeks. When I started reading stories in fandom. . aerye didn't get to the con, which alone would have been sad enough, but the reason for her absence is heartbreaking (death of a beloved friend). I'm sending all possible good vibes toward gwyn_r and her sister, and of course toward ardent_muses.And I came home to discover that my ex-partner's mother--a wonderful, funny, loving, delightful human being--died over the weekend. Eating dinner with her husband, he got up to go to the bathroom for a few minutes, she inhaled something, choked, and was dead by the time he got back to the dining room. Though I hadn't seen her often in the decade or so since S. and I split, still for many years she was like family to me, and I'm still sort of in shock. And her funeral is at exactly the same time as P.'s surgery, but I think I can make it to the visitation tonight, although by rights I ought to be at work until about midnight tonight trying to get caught up.But the con was truly wonderful, and although this was in any logical sense a terrible weekend for me to be gone, I'm still so glad I went. Celebration, Itchings, Resolution, Languages, Pressies, Zzzleep..... . P. is in good spirits and ready for his surgery (while driving home I had a major anxiety-spazz that he'd be pissed at me for being gone, and by the time I reached Madison I was already playing out in my head the details of how he was going to dump me, but he was fine).And now I must slam down some coffee and motor in to work, because I also discovered, on listening to my answering machine last night, that my administrative assistant is coming back a week early from her medical leave, which is emphatically of the good (my wonderful, mentally-organized, methodical, detail-oriented assistant!) except that I've been using her office a lot and have left it in my habitual state of utter smoldering chaos, and so I have to beat her in and do the high-speed clean-up.So I close with a little message to the Gods of Random Tragedy: Guys? You've made your point, whatever it was. You can let up now. Really..
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Posted 12/10/2008 1:13:21 PM
I like to think that Fraser would be very perturbed by this.Nunavut Tourism employee fired for keeping personal weblog
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