Monday, September 04, 2006

The house is in leaks...

and I feared going half-deaf. Otherwise, it was an uneventful, middling sort of weekend.

Leaks and lakes:

The drain pipe in the kitchen burst last Friday because the good husband —erm— poured some kind of caustic soda down the drain. For months I dissuaded him from doing it, saying: "Actually, I don't mind using the plunger. I'm good at it, which makes it doubly fun."

Unfortunately, husbands never listen to their wives. And he even did it behind my back. The caustic soda ate through the whole metal pipe. He worked on it the whole afternoon... while I continued reading Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair, occasionally looking up to raise an eyebrow.

The pipe's been changed. Now the leak is coming from the part where he didn't screw back the P-trap well. Have left all the plastic bags and bottles of house-cleaning stuff on the kitchen floor to remind him that there's still a leak. Last night he commented something like: "Maybe it's time you put these bottles back under the sink. They're quite a hindrance here."

I replied soberly: "They have a nice amiable presence and don't bother me at all. If this [the leak] goes on, they'll be family. I'll start calling them by their first names."

He muttered something about sending me to Dr. House (who happened to be nailing someone's head to the operating table) if I'm not careful.

* * * * *

The toilet's been leaking, too. The rubber gasket is all eaten up and needs to be changed. Since big, neanderthal arms won't fit into the small opening of the tank (one of those cask-of-amontillado behind-the-wall types), I shall have to do it myself. It's rather fun though. I like dipping my arm into that abyss. The water's cold. Makes me feel all very creature-from-the-black-lagoon smug for some reason.

Half-deafness:

My left ear went rather half-deaf for a week — strange sensation as if it failed to pop on a plane. Over the weekend, I threatened to bring it to the GP come Monday. Hah. It stopped sulking and went back to normal activity last night. Which is just as well, since after years and years of looking for it, I still haven't found my health card. Grunt. Where I hide my things I'll never know.

30:30 update:

Pfew! Have survived Day 13. Have also adjusted well to the constant gush of TPM submissions... it's the rest of my old habits that are in shambles: haven't played the Sims 2 in ages, much less uploaded their clothes and furniture on the new computer.

     Poems to date —

     9. Love Letter
     10. A Secret Love Poem that Doubles as a Map of Antarctica
     11. Leak
     12. Tusk
     13. acrylic
           (from An Encyclopedic Guide to Counteracting Bad Luck, page 24)

The last poem is an attempt for the Sidebrow Page 24 Project. It's one of the craziest 'zines I've seen — and I just plain love it. Check it out!

5 comments:

michi said...

hahahahhhaaaa!!! you have me in stitches here! :)

creature from the black lagoon indeed!

but i will show this to MY husband so he finally does something about the slight baby leak under the kitchen sink and the toilet thingy that needs to be changed. *i* do not fancy playing monster - but then i could always invite you over. ;)

day 13 eh? good for you. i *adored* tusk!

m

Arlene said...

if you need to persuade him, use the scattered-bottles strategy. as they keep saying in poetry: "for greater effect — show, don't tell." hee.

invite me over? does that mean i can, like, *drive* over to your place? nicole is teaching me cruise control, after all.

glad you enjoyed tusk. i was rather drunk when i finished that. does it mean i should be less sober more often?

a.

michi said...

*LOL*

and it could also mean you should be more sober less often. *nods head vigorously*

megalopoet said...

it's a virus, i tell you. a great conspiratorial man-thingy invading our homes. under-sinks are the worst. but your slim arms into an abyss: now *that's* a poem, bay-bay.

while you're wriggling and sinking arms into things, can you possibly fit under our crawlspace and retrieve our champagne cat?

oh, and plug those critter holes!

michi said...

a whole new career in this, arlene. or rather, a hole new career. ;)

m