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runswithscissors


Tuesday, May 06, 2003

People have been traipsing in and out of here during the last hour with the frequency of a cheap ham radio. The main event: the male 50% of my landlords arrived to pick up a wad of cash and attempt to make the toilet happy. This may be challenging to write about because he knows this page's URL (in the course of the $$$ part of the visit, he mentioned that his wife had read the entry of six days ago; I didn't realize, I said with pleased surprise, she stopped by my little cyber-fiefdom now and then to do some reading; "That's what it's there for, isn't it?" he replied a bit pointedly (as if I'd somehow suggested the opposite) -- er, well, yes; he apparently read that entry himself and seemed particularly, er, taken with my characterization of him as stopping by for "an infusion of cash," as well as referring to him as "the LL"; could that have had anything to do with his tone of voice, do you think? will I be paying for my cheap-ass literary flourishes with further tones of voice in the future?) so I'll keep it brief. Suffice it to say that when it came to the handyman-wrestling-with-toilet part of the program, between the two of us we produced a near-continuous stream of comedy. And -- I swear I'm not making this up -- two of my contributions led to the fixing of the problem. The details aren't important -- let's just say they were brilliant, and that the toilet tank now remains filled post-flush instead of spritzing water eternally down into the bowl.

I noticed that all through toilet/$$$$ process the construction across the street mostly took a breather, giving the impression of a tranquil neighborhood with a civilized noise level. They must have spent the landlord's visit mounting the jack-hammer attachment on the rear-end/front-end loader, because minutes after LL fled, big-time construction racket cranked itself up to tooth-rattling levels. The interesting part is seeing how much of it I actually tune out as I get doing something. We're adaptable, resilient critters, we humans. Every now and then, though, the noise stops for a few moments, I remember how good silence can feel.

A short time after the toilet's miracle cure, a young woman showed up to take the reading from the piso's water meter -- short, wearing a two-or-three-sizes-too-large winter coat, bearing an alarming resemblance to Marty Feldman. In and out, like a wild-eyed blur. After her exit, I could hear her voice at every other door she stopped in front of, calling out "La luz!!" ("the light!!"), something about her tone suggesting she might be on the verge of a major emotional event. ("Luz," BTW, gets pronounced "looth" here, so what I actually heard was a repeated cry of "La looth!!")

Not long after that, a slim, quieter, more self-composed South American guy stopped by to read the gas meter. Again, in and out. All business.

The buzzer from the building's front door has been going off every few minutes since then as people with junk mail stop by wanting to get into the building to shove, er, junk into every piso's mailbox instead of using the junk-mail box mounted outside the door. This flat's buzzer is startlingly loud and diabolically grating, a combination that can do strange things to one's nervous system after repeated unexpected blasts.

Outside: gray skies, cool temperatures, a chilly, restless breeze blowing laundry about on apartment clotheslines. Yesterday evening, after days of summerlike weather, clouds moved in, bringing autumn-like weather along. Plummeting temperatures, gusts of wind. My landlord carried an umbrella when he showed up (though not when he was rooting around in the toilet), not the normal accouterment for this time of year. It's been a strange few months, weatherwise, with far more rain than usual. According to this morning's El País, the water reserves stand at over 91%, far and away the highest figure I've seen during my time here, so that my toilet has been no threat to the supply of H20 whenever it's gone on a tank-filling bender.

The day's finale will be a visit from a locksmith to take care of a long-standing problem with the piso's industrial-strength lock. I just received a call saying they were on the way.

On to the next source of material.


rws 12:30 PM [+]
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BLATHERINGS

August 2001
September 2001
October 2001
November 2001
December 2001
January 2002
February 2002
March 2002
April 2002
May 2002
June 2002
July 2002
August 2002
September 2002
October 2002
November 2002
December 2002
January 2003
February 2003
March 2003
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004
September 2004
October 2004
November 2004
December 2004
January 2005
February 2005
March 2005
April 2005
May 2005
June 2005
July 2005
August 2005
September 2005
October 2005
November 2005
December 2005
January 2006
February 2006
March 2006
April 2006
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008
April 2008
May 2008
June 2008
July 2008
August 2008
September 2008
October 2008
November 2008
December 2008
January 2009
February 2009
March 2009
April 2009
June 2009
July 2009

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS


Travels:
London '01
Pamplona
Italy '03
U.K. '03
Sevilla
Casablanca
Stoke-on-Trent
Barcelona
Québec/Ottawa
Boston/Lisbon/Madrid
Italy '04
Montréal
La Sierra

Events:
Madrid -- arrival
9/11
Emergency Room I
Holidays 2001
Holidays 2002
Holidays 2003
Holidays 2004
Holidays 2005
A neighbor's passing
Madrid -- March 11 bombings
  and aftermath
Emergency Room II
Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon
Madrid -- Royal Wedding
The DELE exam

GONE, a novel:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10

THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF
JOE ROCCO, a novella:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3

BURBANK SHRUGGED,
a screenplay:
-- Part 1
-- Part 2
-- Part 3
-- Part 4

Short stories:
Murphy's Wife
Another Autumn
La Queja de Una
  Hermanastra Muy Conocida

Autobiography
-- Personal History
-- Hormones On Parade
-- Accidents, Random Mishaps,
    Personal Problems

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT

People/Weblogs:
dooce
foxvox
fudge it
fear not
rebekka
bookslut
802online
idle words
madhaiku
wockerjabby
grow-a-brain
rebel market
letting me be
out and about
kung fu grippe
fanatical apathy
baghdad burning
wfuv's music blog
kexp's music blog
mimi smartypants
between the miles
just a hippie gypsy
the impossible cool
tomato can brushes
vermont homestead
sugar mountain farm

Good Clean Fun:
gizmodo
futurismic
postsecret
dave barry
human clock
mcsweeney's
spaceweather
book-a-minute
internet archive
self-portrait day
my cat hates you
out of context quotes
surrealist compliment
  generator
strindberg and helium

Makin' Musical Whoopee:
last fm
stereo8
pandora
soma fm

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


ABOUT RWS/CONTACT





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runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done.



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