Highlights of the move included:
· Walking in to find our Peruvian landlord (who speaks about as much English as I do Spanish, which is to say, absolutely none. Well, that’s not fair. He knows more English than I do Spanish… probably more equitable to my ability to speak French, which is un petit peut) was still working on the place… and left it a complete mess. The beautiful hardwood floor was covered in grime and paint splatters. His tools were all over the place. The new fridge and oven were sitting, unconnected, in the middle of the kitchen floor. The bathroom… well, I will describe the bathroom later.
· Realizing that the movers didn’t see the very large (very heavy) very pretty coffee table sitting on the curb… and left it behind, at Steve’s house.
· Realizing that we only had one pillow because we assumed the other was going to bring the rest.
· Realizing that half of our kitchen equipment was still at Steve’s house and swiping plastic cutlery from Stop N Shop (but no spoons!!!)
· Sipping champagne out of my oversized shot glasses because we didn’t have any real glasses
· Eating our first in-home meal, (delicious) wings, on our ottoman because we don’t have a coffee table.
Over the past week or so, we’ve made some improvements. We bought a kitchen table, so no more wing-ottoman (except it WAS pretty handy for pizza and jell-o shots last night, yum!). I have also declared war on afore-mentioned bathroom.
See, the bathroom was COVERED in mold, as Steve and I discovered in our first attempt to take a shower (cue corny horror-movie scream scene). It was gross. As you can see…
Well, anyway, over this weekend, I decided to go through and clean the place. I must have used half an aero-spray can of Lysol and there were some casualties…
See the showerhead was the worst. I scrubbed the tub and the sink, and it just needed a little elbow grease to remove some of the stains and mold. But on the shower-head, the mold was entrenched. I began with an assault of Lysol, foaming the showerhead over until it was completely covered. I let it sit for a while (take that!) then periodically re-foamed. The enemy still fought… but add in some boiling water, a little bleach, and a REALLY good scrubbing, and the enemy was removed.
But, in my PTSD moments, I could not forget the epic battle with the mold, so I decided to just replace the damn showerhead. Every time I looked at it, I started dry-heaving, so I thought it might be the best call…
Our landlord came over yesterday morning and replaced the head with something new and shiny. Yay! Not soon after, however, Steve called me into the bathroom, during his shower. I was expecting something pleasant and racy, but when I pulled the curtain back, I found him rubbing the large red bump on his head and holding the brand new shower head. Apparently, after adjusting it, the shower shook for a moment, then expelled the new showerhead directly into Steve’s forehead.
Steve, of course, blamed me for replacing the head. I argued, of course, that looking at how the head broke off, it was not the fact that the head was new, but that the pipe was old and breaking… so, really, it was a matter of time before the head broke off. And at LEAST it wasn’t the moldy one, right?
Steve: “A matter of time? A matter of TIME? Hell no! This was a matter of Carp!”
So now, we have NO showerhead.
And the war continues…
