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The Story So Far: �The rain has returned, or mostly fat, low grey clouds �326 miles travelled, 36 hours worked M-T-W �3 hours in the dentist chair �The lav in the midst of construction �Miss Jane's gift from beyond �5-day weekend ...my eyes are mostly closed, chin resting on my palm, as I attempt to peck this out. Today, I paid for my past dental hygiene indiscretions. The verdict... prep for a crown, another tooth roto-rooted to expel evil decay. Twelve hours later, suffering a Lidocaine hangover. You know those nature specials, where field scientists fire tranquilizer-guns at the wildlife so they can be tagged? Well, I'm the critter. Banged up, throbbing on the right side... but on the mend! Well, maybe later. At the moment, the house looks like a scene from Blade Runner. Blasted walls, debris on the back steps, bits of building materials in every room, pipes leaking, a thin coating of dust over everything. One tiny room's demise (Water Closet could be no better term) unleashing a domino-effect through the rest. Like a hurricane struck it. It Will Be Better Than It Was. Before the weekend's out. Interesting to see the bones of a house, when the walls are stripped bare. Wooden underpinnings, once trees fifty years ago, again seeing the light of day. It seems so much larger inside, with all of the bits removed... but ruined. Gone, the pink-and-black rock and roll tiles, to be replaced with a 70's hair salon color scheme... the landlady's vision of middle America. Guess I'll have to find some of those fake-punky posters with the black, slashy brushstrokes depicting new-wavish fashion models. Of a piece, it is. Doing some investigating, after the first day's destruction, I found the framing behind the medicine cabinet was covered with nearly a hundred rusty razor blades. You know that narrow slot in the back of the metal wall, between the shelves? That's where 1950's Man used to deposit his ejected blades. Right into the wall, folks. I'm surprised the contractors didn't have to call in a HazMat team. No skeletons, thankfully. Damn... I'm out of gas. I feel the need to get into Miss Janes' poring over bungalow plans with her new good fortune, and my indifference... ambivalence to sitting out four more days where I don't have the heart to be, and all of the usual shite. But tomorrow's another day. Perhaps the theme will change. Or the atmosphere. Maybe some of that bottle of Trelawny rum my Yardie friend brought back from JA will figure in somewhere.... |
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