The housekeeper's husband just flooded the bathroom. The old man complains (loudly) if the water is too cold, so I can see what the H'sH was doing; he turned the water on to make sure it was warm before he went to get the old man for his shower. But HH left the showerhead hanging on its cord, facing outwards. Towards my door. So as I was studying a few minutes ago I noticed an unusual noise, and then a puddle coming through the crack between the door and the floor.
I will be in Wisconsin tonight, I will be in Wisconsin tonight, I will be in Wisconsin tonight.
I wanted rugs for my room (it's tiled) for Christmas, and mom got me two. Between the cats spraying them and these exciting sudden floods, I don't think I've gotten to have both on the floor for quite some time.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
On Living With Others: A Series of Complaints (I am an only child)
I live with my sort-of cousin (I call her my aunt) and her wife. I love them and generally want to grow up and be at least a tenth as cool as they are. I love living in Orlando, so close to work and school. I love having a room that I don't have to worry about anyone barging in on or going through. I love my little kitchen and the way smells go through my whole living space when I make something yummy (though I learned in class yesterday this is very American and a French person would detest this circumstance-- there goes that dream). I have windows and a comfy chair and a very comfy bed and now a desk with a good chair, and life in my room is great. But there are times when I need to use the bathroom. Fact of life.
I hate sharing a bathroom with an old man. I fucking hate it. It gets worse and worse. I repeat my plea to anyone listening, should they have power or not: I never ever ever ever ever want to be an old man.
When he first moved in the toilet was equipped with stabilizing bars (to hold onto, I guess?). That wasn't really a big deal; easy to ignore. But then used diapers were just... left... on... the... towel stand. I think I may have gone into shock the first time. Totally not prepared for this. It hasn't happened more than those first few times so it may have been adjustment, but oooooooooh was I less than overjoyed. I am downright mad now when the seat is less than clean, we'll say. I'm sorry to bring these things unpleasant things up, but I'm really frustrated and need to vent.
He also uses ridiculously amounts of toilet paper. Sometimes the aunts provide this, but I've taken to going to Big Lots and just getting big packs myself.
There's no regularity to when he needs to use the bathroom and I understand when you've got to go... Yeah. But if I'm using the bathroom myself, or getting ready in the morning, more often than not he will swear loudly if the door is closed. I've been introduced to him several times, and last weekend I tried to help him at 1 in the morning when he fell. It does not seem to stick for him that I live here, and that the bathroom is not locked just to inconvenience him. I've tried timing my mornings several different ways but there's no definite or even semi-reliable time to take a shower that won't bother him. I can't do it at night, either. I'm a bit scared to shave because sometimes he'll bang the hell out of the door and that makes me jump. And forget taking a bath. :{ I bought a small stash of bath bombs with a birthday giftcard to Lush last year and ended up giving them to my friend; I'll never get to use them here.
The bathroom is also open to the main house now (it used to be closed off and part of my area of the house), so the dogs have access to the room. The dogs are cute, this is no big deal. The dogs using their puppy pads only 2/3 of the time is a deal. 'Cause the bathroommate sure isn't bending over to take care of that stuff. And the housekeeper who helps him shower and stuff does not appear interested in dealing with the situation, though to her credit she may be missing what I see when I get home, and I might be missing things she deals with. I'm willing to assume that.
It appears impossible that he use the bathroom without muttering to himself or swearing at the dogs if they follow him in. There is only a door between my room and the bathroom, so at 1 in the morning (it's just our special time, apparently) this noise is less than welcome. I found a great website last semester that generates noise to cancel what's around you, and I use it a lot when I'm home.
Generally the lights over the sinks are left on all the time. I don't see why this is necessary during the day, but whenever I shut them off they're always back on soon enough. Lately he has decided to leave the light over the actual W.C. area (which is just within that door) on all the time, too. So to check and see if someone is there, on the offchance he's not muttering? I have to look under the door to see if his feet are there. I feel disgusting when I do this, and doing it in front of Josh over the holidays was humiliating.
So I got a text message from my aunt while I was having tea with some friends: We don't want to catch you playing on the new toilet set-up. She was being funny and I hadn't seen it yet, so assuming it was new arms or something I responded You're no fun. How will I develop my latent gymnast skills?
There is a pillow thing glued to the top of the toilet seat. The opening is not large, and this is going to be a goddamn nightmare. I can see my thighs getting very toned, which is good. But that is the only foreseeable good. For a brief moment I weighed the move-back-in-with-mom-and-dad option. My senses weren't far enough gone to make that seem like a good idea, but oh my god. What next?!
At the same time, this is one of the aunts' dad, and they can't not accommodate him, you know? I am not the kind of family that he is, and though he scares me and I generally don't want to think about him I don't want him to be uncomfortable or have a hard time getting around.
There's also the having to get past him to do laundry thing, which I circumvented last time by going through the garage (since his door wouldn't open; I assume he locked it), but that's not exactly ideal either. In part because he scares me I'm not comfortable just walking through his room, and when I do I have to maneuver the laundry basket around his furniture.
Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Breathe in, breathe out.
I hate sharing a bathroom with an old man. I fucking hate it. It gets worse and worse. I repeat my plea to anyone listening, should they have power or not: I never ever ever ever ever want to be an old man.
When he first moved in the toilet was equipped with stabilizing bars (to hold onto, I guess?). That wasn't really a big deal; easy to ignore. But then used diapers were just... left... on... the... towel stand. I think I may have gone into shock the first time. Totally not prepared for this. It hasn't happened more than those first few times so it may have been adjustment, but oooooooooh was I less than overjoyed. I am downright mad now when the seat is less than clean, we'll say. I'm sorry to bring these things unpleasant things up, but I'm really frustrated and need to vent.
He also uses ridiculously amounts of toilet paper. Sometimes the aunts provide this, but I've taken to going to Big Lots and just getting big packs myself.
There's no regularity to when he needs to use the bathroom and I understand when you've got to go... Yeah. But if I'm using the bathroom myself, or getting ready in the morning, more often than not he will swear loudly if the door is closed. I've been introduced to him several times, and last weekend I tried to help him at 1 in the morning when he fell. It does not seem to stick for him that I live here, and that the bathroom is not locked just to inconvenience him. I've tried timing my mornings several different ways but there's no definite or even semi-reliable time to take a shower that won't bother him. I can't do it at night, either. I'm a bit scared to shave because sometimes he'll bang the hell out of the door and that makes me jump. And forget taking a bath. :{ I bought a small stash of bath bombs with a birthday giftcard to Lush last year and ended up giving them to my friend; I'll never get to use them here.
The bathroom is also open to the main house now (it used to be closed off and part of my area of the house), so the dogs have access to the room. The dogs are cute, this is no big deal. The dogs using their puppy pads only 2/3 of the time is a deal. 'Cause the bathroommate sure isn't bending over to take care of that stuff. And the housekeeper who helps him shower and stuff does not appear interested in dealing with the situation, though to her credit she may be missing what I see when I get home, and I might be missing things she deals with. I'm willing to assume that.
It appears impossible that he use the bathroom without muttering to himself or swearing at the dogs if they follow him in. There is only a door between my room and the bathroom, so at 1 in the morning (it's just our special time, apparently) this noise is less than welcome. I found a great website last semester that generates noise to cancel what's around you, and I use it a lot when I'm home.
Generally the lights over the sinks are left on all the time. I don't see why this is necessary during the day, but whenever I shut them off they're always back on soon enough. Lately he has decided to leave the light over the actual W.C. area (which is just within that door) on all the time, too. So to check and see if someone is there, on the offchance he's not muttering? I have to look under the door to see if his feet are there. I feel disgusting when I do this, and doing it in front of Josh over the holidays was humiliating.
So I got a text message from my aunt while I was having tea with some friends: We don't want to catch you playing on the new toilet set-up. She was being funny and I hadn't seen it yet, so assuming it was new arms or something I responded You're no fun. How will I develop my latent gymnast skills?
There is a pillow thing glued to the top of the toilet seat. The opening is not large, and this is going to be a goddamn nightmare. I can see my thighs getting very toned, which is good. But that is the only foreseeable good. For a brief moment I weighed the move-back-in-with-mom-and-dad option. My senses weren't far enough gone to make that seem like a good idea, but oh my god. What next?!
At the same time, this is one of the aunts' dad, and they can't not accommodate him, you know? I am not the kind of family that he is, and though he scares me and I generally don't want to think about him I don't want him to be uncomfortable or have a hard time getting around.
There's also the having to get past him to do laundry thing, which I circumvented last time by going through the garage (since his door wouldn't open; I assume he locked it), but that's not exactly ideal either. In part because he scares me I'm not comfortable just walking through his room, and when I do I have to maneuver the laundry basket around his furniture.
Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Tomorrow night I'll be in Wisconsin. Breathe in, breathe out.
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