On my Way

So I've just got to pack and take care of some unsightly hairs and I will be ready for vacation.

See you suckers in a week and two days.

Soooooo Close

I am almost done with this, the longest week in the history of the world. I have only 1 hour and 15 minutes (give or take 15 minutes) until I will safely be on my way to the weekend and therefore on my way to vacation.

Jeremy has our Malaria tablets. We have purchased travel insurance. My bathing suits are clean. I have a floppy hat. IT IS TIME TO GO!!!!

I feel sort of like a little kid who's woken up to early on Christmas and has to wait just a little bit longer to wake up her parents because she knows that if she goes in before 6 they'll just take even longer to get up.

Newsflash

Did you know that there's malaria in Dominican Republic? Well there is. So I have to take special malarial pills and be concerned about yet another disease! While drinking mojitos!

Who knew vacation could be so hard.

One. More. Week.

The week before vacation is the cruelest of all weeks. Crueler than the week before Christmas. Crueler than the week before my birthday. Crueler than the week before being executed for a crime you did not commit (I assume). My brain has officially shut down and all it can think is, "Mojito mojito mojito mojito beach mojito beach beach mojito." My brain can't be assed to care about records management right now. It doesn't care about scanning procedures or file retention. My brain couldn't give whether or not I ever write that stupid novel. My brain wants to sit on the beach reading pulpy murder mysteries and sipping a drink whilst wearing a floppy straw hat, new bathing suit and some SPF 50.

The week before vacation is not okay. I have decided which dress I will wear at the wedding. I have a new denim skirt and plenty of sundresses. I am ready! Why do I have to keep waiting? Why is my life so unfair??

I don't even know how I'm going to make it through one more hour of work today, much less the remaining 4 days of my work week. Obviously God hates me for some unspecified reason. Probably for marrying Jeremy. Clearly the consequences of my interfaith marraige are making themselves known now in this, the final tedious week before my vacation.

It's hard to be me. Really, it is, I don't recommend it. At least not until next week.

I hate my head

I have had a head cold practically forever (in this instance forever = approx 2 weeks) and I am tired as hell of it. Whenever I get sick I get this horrible loud disgusting sounding cough that makes people think I am dying. So even when I no longer feel unwell enough to stay home, I still sound all contagious and grody and it is no fun. No fun at all.

Also I have been having weird dizzy spells so I went to see the doctor and had some blood tests done and now I am waiting for results and whilst waiting for results I am imaging the most horrible diseases possible must be germinating in my body just waiting for discovery as they gleefully rub their diseased hands together and cackle at my misfortune. I'l probably be dead by next week, just wait.

Or I just need to stop eating rice krispy treats for breakfast, whatever.

But, our bathroom is very nearly completely done. The shower works (but the water temp needs to go a little lower so it is not always almost too hot), the bathtub is awesome and the toilet flushes like a champ. we just need to put up the cabinets and fancy light over the mirror, and get the underfloor heating hooked up. The whole thing is really pretty and well layed out and I am pretty in love with it. I will post photos once the light and cabinets are sorted. Eventually we are going to get a stained glass panel to put in the window so we can throw out the tatty curtain currently in use.

We are also looking for a small table for the bedroom and some sort of comfy yet still stylish mid century modern leather chair for Jeremy to go in the living room. He needs something to lounge in, but stylishly so. We were down in Crystal Palace at the awesome antique market there on Saturday and it was way more crowded than usual and we both felt very concerned about the all the people in our secret shop until we realised that it only seemed crowded because we were there before noon instead of rushing through like crazy people an hour before closing.

And, most importantly, there are only 12 days between me and the Dominican Republic. 12 short and tiny days. I bought a new bathing suit, a floppy hat, a sundress, a short jean skirt, and a cover up thingama in preparation. Bring on the SPF 50 I'm going to the tropics.

Toilet Watch 2008

Ladies and gentlemen, we have achieved functional toilet status! Hooray!

Yesterday I got home and first I saw that there was no longer a bathtup in my dining room and I started to giggle. Then I ran upstairs and I saw a toilet with a tank and flush handle and I started to giggle more. Then I saw that the sink was in place and the shower was in place and that the tup was almost in place and I nearly cried!

There were some defects in the taps so we have to wait until tomorrow for the plumbing to get hooked up on the tub, shower and sink to get hooked up, but, dudes, we are so close! The bathroom is almost done. And let me tell you, it is going to be so beautiful and awesome. The walls are painted a slatey blue and the floor is a slate effect tile and one wall is all cream tiles with a center border of natural stones and I have never loved a room as much as I am going to love this bathroom with it's claw foot bath tub and underfloor heating.

I know, I know, I'm a big materialistic nerd, but really I don't care very much because my bathroom is totally going to kick the asses of all the other bathrooms in town.

Stories from the War

On Saturday we went to a friend's birthday party in Blackheath. Upon arriving we were handed a bunch of sweets and some twine and ordered to "Tie them to the tree in the garden!" We assumed we'd have only one tree to choose from, as this would be the case in our typical tiny garden. But when we went down the stairs and out through a dark scary passage we found ourselves in the hugest garden in all of London (maybe not really) where our hostess's mother, Esme, was outdoors tending the disposable barbecues whilst drinking some whine and smoking a cigarette.
Jeremy and I got to talking to Esme as we tied sweets to multiple trees and flowering vines and even a random knife stuck in the garden wall (we chose not to ask how it got there) and she told us about living in Brixton immediately after the war when she was small and how they used to play cricket in bombed out buildings and how it seemed like the most magical place in the world to her. She asked us if any of our relatives were involved in the war and I told her how my grandfather and three of his brothers joined up on the same day and a recruiter went down the line of them pointing to each saying "Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines!" And they each went their separate ways.
Jeremy said that his grandfather was an army dentist but never left the US and then explained how just his Bubbie and her sister and their cousins Paula and Joe made it out of Austria and the rest of the family died. And Esme told us how she and her siblings were evacuated from London at the start of the war and that most children were sent by themselves with their names and addresses and all pertinent information pinned to their jackets but her mother refused to leave her children. So they left her father in the city where he helped care for horses, and they all shipped out to the country where they lived on the edges of a grand estate with all the others who'd been evacuated, including lots of Jewish German children who'd been sent out of Germany just in time.
One of these German Jewish children was a little boy named Nathanial and at age 5 he was Esme's first love. One day the 2 of them walked together to the vicarage garden and he picked her as many flowers as he could and filled up her doll pram with blossoms then the two of them walked into town arm in arm together where the vicar shouted at Nathanial for stealing the flowers. Esme said that as it happened all she could think was "Why are they yelling at him? He's just done the most wonderful thing!"
I think that this is possibly the best story I have heard in a very long time. Possibly ever.

for the love of pooping!

So before I was grouchy about hpw I had no shower. Actually I had no clue, that was before I spent the weekend without a toilet. Mario the builder claimed we would only be without a toilet on Friday night and Saturday during the day. But mayve the Slovakian word for Saturday is the same as Sunday and Monday morning because guess what we still don't have? A goddamned toilet!

He also thought it would be an awesome idea to use one of our nice towels to mop up the leak from the toilet pipe. And then he just threw it onto the trash heap that is currently our back garden. Normally I don't give that big a shit about my towels, they're just towels after all, but then I've never used any of them to mop up leaks from the toilet pipe either, and I certainly wouldn't use the ones we were given as wedding presents.

Honestly, I probably wouldn't have cared but by day 2 of no toilet I was kind of at the end of my rope. Luckily some friends of our were out of town over the weekend and were kind enough to leave us keys to their flat so we were able to shower and use the facilities, and then on Sunday they were again kind enough to let me crash again, but I just really want my house and my poop room back to normal again. Mario claims he will be finished today, but I have my doubts.

The tiles are all at least in and tey are beautiful, the shower head and tray have been installed, also lovely. But really, mostly, I just want a functioning toilet and unmolested towels right now. Is that so much to ask?