Friday, November 11, 2005

Snart

A Snart is a combination of a sneeze and a fart. But it wasn't me. Apparently everyone in my office is sick, including my boss, (and that wasn't me either, unless wishing made it happen). We need to hire someone to cropdust the building in Lysol, because it's just a pit of germs and disease and pestilence and snot. Anyway, I was strolling by the receptionist's desk to fax something and damned if she didn't snart. Fast U-turn.

I'm presently sitting in the local Mini service department waiting for this useless shower of bastards to fix the same problem they've apparently ignored for two straight visits in as many weeks. I sent a Bite Me letter to their national headquarters, and while I ordinarily wouldn't think this would do any good, Mini actually seems to very on top of things like this. They'll probably fire everyone in the office by 5:00 today. Dammit, I hope so. When I'm back in next week, it'll be nice to see some new faces around here.

So A.S. gets into town this evening, which is wonderful. However, my apartment is filled with dust and molds and mites and germs, and my nose looks like a coke addict's and I probably have sick breath. Plus, my little visitor has finally arrived (thank Christ, I can stop eating cottage cheese and hot pickle and granola and chocolate all at once) five days late (stupid marathon) but better late than breast feeding. So I'm really terribly attractive, bloated with processed foods and PMS complexion. And really, the squalor of Jemima's house is kind of incredible. I'm trying to figure out how I can clean the fridge, do a week's worth of dishes, take out the trash, vacuum, clean the bathroom, and do laundry all in the 45 minutes I'll have between work and his arrival. And that will be the bare minimum it will take to make it habitable for a decent person. I've just been building a wall of mess around me for days...tissues, soup bowls, candy wrappers. There are rings of the stuff around the couch, bed and potty.

I am a bad, bad person.

1 comment:

Marcheline said...

No, Jemima dear - you are a SICK person. Very different.

Repeat after me: "Not bad. Sick. Different thing."

Bad would be ruining someone else's apartment. Ruining your own? Well, that's absolutely fine. Whoever doesn't like it can just pitch in and help you clean it, then, can't they?

Eating whatever horrific combination of foods you described.... well - that's really, really.... sick.

So you see? You're not bad at all. Just sick!

- M

P.S. Congrats on the arrival of the redcoats. Whew!