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A visit from the cleanliness fairies
Jul. 31st, 2005 01:42 amLife, or at least my apartment, is back to a semblance of order. I love coming home and finding my apartment neater than when I left it. My friend Xose is visiting from Galicia; he arrived last night, and we spent most of today helping his brother close down his restaurant, moving the things he was keeping to a storage room.
It was actually lots of fun to get to go "shopping" as it were, among all the leftover bits in the restaurant, especially since I didn't have to pay for any of the myriad things I brought home. I didn't take all that much: a handful of wineglasses and goblets, two individual-sized teapots, a few little bowls, some tablecloths and cloth napkins, various mixed glasses (shot-glasses, water glasses, etc.), a glass pitcher, a few half-empty bottles of scotch, whiskey, vodka, anis (to have on hand for visitors) and 6 bottles each of red wine and of rosé. Maybe something else I'm forgetting.
Anyway, this morning, Xose helpfully decided that I needed to wash all the covers on my couch cushions and my reading chair. So we dismantled everything, stuffed the covers in the washing machine, and then had that fateful moment when I urned it on and blew all the fuses. Luckily, Xose was able to a) remove the washing machine from under the counter and b) open it and c) understand anything inside it, including the fact that it is beyond hope (it was left in the apartment by the previous tenant, and I knew it was getting on in years and reaching a point-of-no-return).
My upstairs neighbor kindly let me wash the cushions at his place. And it being so warm, they dried quite quickly.
I must say they look so much better now. (And not just because much of this process happened without my active involvement!)
It also feels better to have the covers back on the cushions, since at least thereby the SEMBLANCE of order and calm is restored.
(I spoke to my father this evening, and after describing my various travails he said it sounded like I was having a Stephanie Plum kind of day. He's become addicted to Evanovich, after resisting trying the series the many times I tried to get him to read them. My grandmother is also actively reading her way through them, though my mother gave up after five or so... Of course, after my father signed off by saying "Good night, Stephanie, I'll talk to you tomorrow" I couldn't help but feel I was getting the short end of the stick, as it were, since Stepahnie at least amortizes the chaos in her life by juggling her two sex/love interests, and here I am with all the chaos but without even one s/l interest. Sigh.)
It was actually lots of fun to get to go "shopping" as it were, among all the leftover bits in the restaurant, especially since I didn't have to pay for any of the myriad things I brought home. I didn't take all that much: a handful of wineglasses and goblets, two individual-sized teapots, a few little bowls, some tablecloths and cloth napkins, various mixed glasses (shot-glasses, water glasses, etc.), a glass pitcher, a few half-empty bottles of scotch, whiskey, vodka, anis (to have on hand for visitors) and 6 bottles each of red wine and of rosé. Maybe something else I'm forgetting.
Anyway, this morning, Xose helpfully decided that I needed to wash all the covers on my couch cushions and my reading chair. So we dismantled everything, stuffed the covers in the washing machine, and then had that fateful moment when I urned it on and blew all the fuses. Luckily, Xose was able to a) remove the washing machine from under the counter and b) open it and c) understand anything inside it, including the fact that it is beyond hope (it was left in the apartment by the previous tenant, and I knew it was getting on in years and reaching a point-of-no-return).
My upstairs neighbor kindly let me wash the cushions at his place. And it being so warm, they dried quite quickly.
I must say they look so much better now. (And not just because much of this process happened without my active involvement!)
It also feels better to have the covers back on the cushions, since at least thereby the SEMBLANCE of order and calm is restored.
(I spoke to my father this evening, and after describing my various travails he said it sounded like I was having a Stephanie Plum kind of day. He's become addicted to Evanovich, after resisting trying the series the many times I tried to get him to read them. My grandmother is also actively reading her way through them, though my mother gave up after five or so... Of course, after my father signed off by saying "Good night, Stephanie, I'll talk to you tomorrow" I couldn't help but feel I was getting the short end of the stick, as it were, since Stepahnie at least amortizes the chaos in her life by juggling her two sex/love interests, and here I am with all the chaos but without even one s/l interest. Sigh.)
