So some of the charm and magic of having my own walk-up apartment in a bustling section of downtown is quickly and surely fading. Turns out the disadvantage of living in the middle of everything is while you have everything you need within walking distance, you also get drunk idiots roaming the streets at night and cars that just insist on honking their horns for prolonged periods at 7 in the morning. We still don’t have the remote for the air conditioner, so we open the windows for air, and it just gets incredibly loud and irritating.
Also, my bathroom is sort of disgusting. For awhile the toilet leaked, with obvious resulting smells, although that situation was fixed while I was in Greece. The bathtub still leaks so the floor is just constantly wet. I think a good barometer of quality of life is whether or not you have to wear flip-flops when you enter the bathroom.
But I have to say the laundry process in my apartment just takes the cake for most insane thing ever. It’s a portable washing machine shared with everyone on the floor, and I’m pretty sure the other tenants never use it because it’s always available. That should have been my first clue. To wash my clothes I must pour about eight to ten potfuls of water from the sink into the main receptacle of the washing machine, put in my clothes and detergent, and let it run. Easy enough. But draining and rinsing is a whole other mess. The water comes out of this tube that, try as I might to keep it contained in the bathtub, inevitably ends up spewing dirty black lint-water onto me, the bathtub, and the hallway between the bathroom and kitchen. It’s disgusting, and I’m pretty sure my clothes don’t really get much cleaner. I don’t dare actually washing my nice clothes in it, and I have yet to go to the dry-cleaners, so I’m slowly but surely running out of nice things to wear as the summer goes on.
Basically…I need my mother. Hurry!