A Day (Off) In The Life

Monday, January 25, 2010
6:15 pm  This was not on my To Do list.

I'm procrastinating.  I have to start giving tours tomorrow, but I decided to take a break from writing out and memorizing every single itty bitty fact I have to know, to blog.  I'm going to try to make an effort to blog on all of my days off because it's really the only opportunity I have.  Soooo, yes.  Today is Monday, and I didn't have work.  For the next year, I'll be getting random days off instead of real weekends.  Personally, I think the ever-changing schedule kind of adds to the job's excitement... Of course, I say that now, when I'm one week in...

Anyway, this week my weekend was Sunday and Monday, after surviving a six-day work week.  I already love my job, but I was definitely looking forward to some time off.  There's a reason weekends exist.  It gives you a chance to get away from the people and tasks you had to deal with all week!  Since I moved here only last Saturday and started my new job last Monday, I still hadn't had the chance to fully unpack or clean my apartment.  And now that it's Monday night, I'm realizing I've accomplished almost none of the things I wanted to.  Same girl, new city.

Today started off...weird.  I had planned on sleeping in to catch up after a week of very little sleep.  This plan quickly went to pieces when I awoke at 9 AM to a banging on my door.  Groaning, I rolled out of bed, grabbed my glasses, and threw open my bedroom door.  To give you the proper visual, you have to understand that I had worn my hair curly the day before, so over night it had grown to twice its natural size.  For pajamas I was wearing on old red BU t-shirt, and thermal multi-colored polka-dot pajama pants.  I was a vision, boys, lemme tell ya.  Anyway, I throw open the door and find my roommate Wen (who had also been woken up and got to the door before me) talking to two men (who turned out to be my landlord - we'll call him "Julio" - and the plumber).  Julio took one look at me and stifled a laugh.  I'd been calling him constantly for the past week about the running toilet and (did I mention this?) the COCKROACH INFESTATION, so of course he picked 9 AM on my day off to stop by.  I knew I looked ridiculous, so there was really nothing else I could do but cry, "Good morning, Julio!" with a sassy wink.  He knows he loves the crazy girl who calls him every day complaining about las cucarachas.  He just doesn't know it yet.

So the plumber was plumbing in the bathroom, and I stood there, waiting for an exterminator to emerge.  That was until Julio pulled out a blue can, and I realized that Julio's idea of an exterminator is himself and a can of Raid.  Fantastic.  While Julio made our kitchen foggy with Raid (a nice film has settled on our dishware... all of my children will now probably have a genetic defect like two right feet), I tried to make myself more presentable.  When I had given up, I walked back into the kitchen and looked up to find... UNA CUCARACHA!  "JULIO!!!!!"  I screamed (he was in the bathroom).  He came running from the bathroom (and by running I mean he quickly took the two steps it takes to get from the bathroom to the kitchen) to find me standing in the middle of the kitchen, now in my pink bathrobe, pointing angrily at the ceiling, "SEE???  THEY'RE HERE!!!  THEY'RE LIVING BEHIND THOSE CUPBOARDS AND ALL AROUND THE SINK!!!"

Julio sprayed until the roach fell down and was writhing on the ground.  Then he turned to me and said, triumphantly, "See?  Es working!" 

"Yeah, we'll see, Julio..." I grumbled, shaking my head.

Now the toilet isn't running anymore (so long as you jiggle the handle), and there aren't any more roaches (that I have seen).  It's a regular luxury apartment... 

People keep saying I'll look back at this time when I was young and poor and living on my own in New York City and laugh someday.  For now, I guess I'll settle for making others laugh with my tales of woe.  Someone should benefit from all this.

Love,
Tara