What I’m Reading
Aug
30
When You Know You’ve Found The One
Filed Under Uncategorized | 20 Comments
Last night as I was leaving the beach house in Maine, I called Chris to let him know I was on my way home. He had just come from a delicious (free) dinner with his boss and co-workers and I was coming down off a perfect day in the sun, so we were both feeling very content, and, apparently, generous.
NPW: “Guess what? I got you a gift!”
C: “I got you a gift too!”
NPW: “Really? I love gifts! What did you get me?”
C: “Not telling! What did you get me?”
NPW: “No way, two can play that game. You’ll have to wait till you get home.”
Cue the foreshadowing. After a few more guesses and hints, C remarked, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we both got each other the same thing?” Why yes, it would be funny, I agreed.
A few hours later when we both got home we did the whole close-your-eyes-to-get-your-surprise thing and whipped out the exact same present:
Aug
28
Vacation, All I Ever Wanted
Filed Under Uncategorized | 11 Comments
What I wouldn’t give for neighbors that don’t spend their days listening to the Numa Numa song in a non-ironic way. Loudly. In their driveway. On repeat.
What’s even more disturbing is that I can’t tell if it’s coming from the college girls that just moved in next door or the old man across the street who washes and vacuums his car every day so he can stare at the college girls that just moved in next door.
Anyway, C and I survived the big college move-in weekend. We were smart enough to make plans in advance that got us out and away from the city, which basically meant we avoided playing bumper cars with moving vans and distraught parents with SUVs full of lava lamps. The Great College Arrival of ‘07 also signified that summer is coming to a close, and today I woke up with just one thought in my head: “Damn, I wish I had bought those breakfast burritos at the store yesterday.”
Ok, ok, I did have that thought. But what I was really thinking was that one week from today, my vacation will be over. Done. Completed. And I have to go back to school! I don’t know if I should be concerned that I’ve barely given my sad little library a thought all summer. I know they were planning some construction on it in July and August; maybe I was subconsciously trying to block out the mental images of three inches of asbestos dust settling over everything in my absence.
So today I try to make the most of what’s left of my free days and head up to Maine for some quality beach time. Just me, my book, and the ocean. And a whole lot of beer. Hope you’re all enjoying the August wrap-up. Later, Gs.
Aug
23
In an effort to try to be a little more green, I’ve been limiting most of my impulse purchases to organic and natural products, mostly because I feel bad about not having picked up a recycling box from the city since December yet, but also because I don’t want Al Gore showing up at my house with his PowerPoint presentation to lecture me. And also maybe a little bit because I care about the environment and the amount of chemicals I put in my body, but seriously Al, I know you invented environmentalism and the internet. Lay off.
So after a few frustrating and expensive buys, a few mediocre and expensive buys, and a very few great and expensive buys, I’ve narrowed down my list and I am sharing it with you. I know, you’re welcome!
EO Organic Lip Treatment:
I bought this stuff on a whim one day in Whole Foods. I had been wandering around, perusing their overpriced but beautifully packaged organic goods, when I realized I was feeling a little parched and needed immediate lip rehydration assistance. Now, much like these lovely ladies, I am usually a lip gloss girl and pack my bag accordingly. And true to my nature, I had no fewer than five (five!) different lip glosses in my bag; alas, nary a chapstick. Detour: emergency purchase!
Random though it was, this has proved one of my best lip purchases, ever. I put it on every night before I go to bed and it’s silky and soft and doesn’t have any of those chemicals that cause your lips to feel like they’d been sitting in the sun for 12 hours after it wears away. I bought the Lavender and Aloe flavor, which I enjoy a great deal, but I’d like to try the other flavors as well. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of letting C try it out one day (he is probably even more of an addict that I am, and he had- gasp!- forgotten his at home). A word of advice: unless you like coming home to lavender man kisses, keep this stuff away from him.
VTAE Salamander Smoother: Almond Apricot Body Buff:
Saw this stuff on sale at Wild Oats and thought it might be a solution for my dry, dry arms and elbows. Oddly, I also bought it because it made me reminisce about my high school days when I bought the St. Ives Apricot Scrub even though it made my skin feel like I had taken a sandblaster to it because everyone else had it! Oh, to be young again. The best was when I’d scrub with the ol’ St. Ives and then I’d wash my face with Noxema; it would feel like my whole body was on fire with youthful exuberance. Throw on some Malibu Musk and I was so ready to hit the school bus. But I digress.
Bonus: they help save animals on the brink of extinction! Wait, are salamanders on the brink of extinction? And can I still buy this product if I don’t really care about salamanders and can’t even be bothered to wikipedia whether they’re endangered? Because really, even if it didn’t make my arms super soft (it so does!), who wouldn’t enjoy opening a giant jar of marzipan every morning?
Boscia Oil-Free Daily Hydration SPF 15:
I must have 73 sample tubs of this stuff from Sephora laying around my bathroom. Which probably equals more than the tiny $27 tube; whatever, not the point. The point is that this stuff is fantastic as an every day moisturizer. I purposely let C try this stuff out and he agreed that it was very nice. A few more days of intense moisturizing action and he won’t even mind that I’m spending more on face stuff than groceries! Bwahaha!
Uhh, but seriously, this stuff is worth the price tag. Unlike some other products I tried that felt like I had just spackled my delicate skin with tile caulking.
Giovanni Four Elements of Style Organic Hair Care:
Despite having the most dramatic website I’ve ever encountered, the results from their Golden Wheat Shampoo and Conditioner were good, but I can’t definitively say they were $14 a bottle good. For that price, I want my hair to be commercial-grade glossy. I haven’t tried any of the other types, and even though I wasn’t super impressed with this one I was sufficiently drawn in by the cool bottles to want to try the 50-50. (You can’t tell from that picture, but the bottles are triangles. Wee!) Also, the first time I stepped out of the shower after using this, C demanded, “Why do you smell like beer?” And I swear it was the wheat shampoo, not the bottle of Sam Summer I was drinking in the shower. This time.
Trader Joe’s Marinated Wild Turbot filets with Coconut Lime Jasmine rice:
Not exactly a product, I know, but I felt the need to mention it because it was surprisingly, amazingly good. I only wish I had a picture of this meal that I made for C and I the other night. We grilled the fish, popped the rice in the microwave, and sauteed some broccoli spears with a tiny bit of olive oil. Fifteen minutes later: presto! Delicious meal, exactly as if I had slaved away for an hour. Also? I had no idea if I even liked turbot when I bought it, but it turned out to be the best white fish I’ve ever tasted. For serious.
On a side note: seriously, I don’t know how we’d live normally if it weren’t for Trader Joe’s and their easy to prepare foods. It’s like everything comes packaged in exactly enough for two people, as well. Props, TJ’s. You’re worth the lines.
Aug
21
Are You Having a Laugh?
Filed Under Uncategorized | 9 Comments
Anybody out there watching Extras? No? Just me and Chris? I love me some Ricky Gervais.
Anyway, I was having a laugh today. At this.
And then again, at this:
Oh, and one more time, at the following conversation:
NPW’s sister: Looks like we’ll have to make different plans for our February vacation, huh?
NPW: Why? Is Renna pregnant?!
Sister: No! DUH… there’s a category 5 hurricane that just hit the Yucatan peninsula!
NPW: Oh. Holy crap, I just got schooled by my sister! My sister, who thought New Orleans was in Canada! In my defense, I haven’t watched the news since June. My only source of information comes from the weeks-old People magazines Mom gives me when I visit.
Sister: Ha! I win!
Aug
20
Let’s Get It Started
Filed Under Uncategorized | 17 Comments
I’ll probably be crucified for saying this, but I’m ready for summer to be over.
Every year when June rolls up in its pimped out Benz and shouts promises of ice cream cones and sandy beaches I’m quite happy to give the ol’ peace out to everyone and hightail it out of my place of employment. The weeks go by, suddenly it’s mid-July, I realize my summer is half over, and what did I do? Read a few books, made it a few steps closer to achieving skin cancer by the time I hit forty, and maybe caught up with a few friends that tend to fall by the wayside once school is in full swing. Which, don’t get me wrong, are all great things. But the summer days are very long, especially when you’re at an age where most people you know are gainfully employed and therefore unable to watch an entire season of Entourage in one sitting. And so, eventually, you start to make actual plans that don’t involve your couch, a bag of tortilla chips, and beer.
And then it’s August. It’s hot and humid and in the city it smells like garbage and overflowed sewers and unwashed, sweaty Crocs*. And by August I’m sick of the heat, and I’m sick of everyone having a job and somewhere to be, and I’m even sick of feeling like a lazy slob when I’m sitting in my pajamas at 3:30 in the afternoon. I long for cool fall evenings, apple picking, county fairs, wearing hoodies, and no longer having to see college girl’s ass cheeks falling out the bottom of their too-short, too-tight skirts. I’ll be glad to have a reason to shut my windows at night, if only to block out the sounds of the children wiping out on their Heelies in the gravelly street. I look forward to the normalcy of a real schedule, even if it involves waking up early enough to see the moon setting.
Which is why I was so thankful for today. A crisp clean 70 degrees, sunny and breezy enough to wipe away the constant smells of road construction and lawn fertilizer. It was a perfect reminder of why I love the fall. Besides, I think the anxiety of going back to school and the dreaming about it every night are far worse than actually being back. Why did I have to dream about breaking the school’s website and then accidentally swearing at the Principal two nights in a row? I don’t know, but I can guarantee you I’ll have no such dreams once I’m back in my cozy little library.
Bring it on, September. I’m so ready for your endless tedious meetings and the return of tens of thousands of college students. Now where’s my Trapper Keeper?
*Please note, these would not be MY sweaty, smelly Crocs, as I do not believe in Crocs. I was referring, actually, to the hippy girl next door to me who just yesterday was wheeling her garbage barrel down her driveway and dropped it, spilling at least a gallon of trash juice on her baby blue Crocs. Then proceeded to walk down the street, AWAY FROM HER HOUSE.
Aug
16
Exploring Places Unknown (To Me)
Filed Under Uncategorized | 8 Comments
Tonight will be a first for me: I am venturing into Jamaica Plain on my own.
For those of you who don’t know Boston, Jamaica Plain is one of those areas of the city that you never have any reason to visit unless you know someone who lives there or unless your supply of crystal meth is running low. Fortunately for me, my reason for making the trek is the former, as I have a book club meeting there this evening. Although I suppose it doesn’t hurt to know where one might procure the latter, just in case there’s ever a scenario where someone has kidnapped C and claims they’ll kill him if I don’t deliver the goods; it would be pretty sad if C was being held for ransom and I was all, “hold on! I have to check online to see how to get there… do you think it would be faster to transfer from red to green, or go directly from red to orange? Well excuuuuse me for not knowing how to get to Crackville, Kidnapper!” Wait, are crystal meth and crack the same? No? Hmm. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that C never gets kidnapped then, yes?
Moving right along, I was just looking at the orange line stops to estimate how long it will take me to get there and I suddenly realized that I’d be going right through the horrible Ruggles Station, where a young and defenseless NPW got mugged back in good old 1998. The mugging is a story for another time, but it did get me thinking about how I would defend myself in that same situation if it happened to me now. Because honestly, I don’t carry any type of weapon, nor do I want to. I mean, I suppose I could try screaming in their face, as that’s proved an effective means of deterrent in the past. I could also try throwing my copy of The Inheritance of Loss at the would-be mugger; it’s a pretty hefty book and could possibly do some damage to the face area. Enough damage to get me safely away with my wallet and iPod intact? I’d rather not find out.
Regardless, intrepid woman that I am I have vowed not to miss another meeting, especially after the last one I missed where they discussed the NC-17 movie version of the book and I was the only one who had actually seen the movie. Doh. And anyway, who knows? Maybe I’ll even find a cool new area to hang out in, kind of like when I discovered Southie was not entirely like a scene from The Departed or Good Will Hunting, more like a scene from this.
Or maybe you’ll never hear from me again. If this is my last post, you know where to send McGruff the Crime Dog: that street corner in JP where all the coke heads hang out. Because they’re probably holding C ransom, I obviously have no clue about drugs, and McGruff would totally know where to score the good stuff, karate kick some muggers, and fly me to safety. Why does McGruff suddenly fly? Because I said so.
Also, did I ever mention that McGruff could totally kick
Smokey the Bear’s ass? He so could!
Aug
14
Just Call Me Crips
Filed Under Uncategorized | 12 Comments
Howdy. You may have noticed that it’s been a while since I rapped at you; there are several reasons for this departure from my normal posting schedule. Firstly, I was at the beach in Maine all weekend, soaking up the last of my perfect sunshine-y summer weekends. I always have grand plans when I head up there: going downtown, catching a show, shopping, and walking the Marginal Way, but once I get to the beach it’s very hard to motivate myself to do anything more than reach for a beer or nap in a lounge chair. Don’t judge: you know if your front yard was the beach you wouldn’t be doing anything either.
So whatevs, my point is that I was lazy all weekend, and with the exception of a little swimming and some chasing of my godson to make sure he didn’t do a header off the rock wall I probably did as little movement as possible to still maintain my status as a non-comatose person. Unfortunately, what movement I did do caused me to re-injure my back. In retrospect, carrying a wriggling 25 lb. one year old on my hip was not the brightest idea.
Do you think he could’ve been wriggly becauseI fed him cream puffs for dinner?
Now I’m not only in pain (AGAIN), but I’m stuck in my apartment watching bad daytime television and waiting for a nurse or someone to call me back from my doctor’s office. And even though I know it’s the nurses that will get me the appointment with the doctor I still dread them calling me because they are always insufferably rude. For example, when I called to make an appointment and the nurse said, “We can’t just dole out Vicodin like it’s candy. You need to be seen by the doctor.” Of course I immediately went on the defensive, insisting that I wanted an appointment, not drugs, but she just continued on with her insinuations that I was some kind of junkie. Which, you know, I can understand she probably gets a lot of people just looking for a quick fix, but it’s irritating to be treated like I’m going to go sell pills on the street when I can barely walk around.
Anyway, C has been a sweetheart about the whole thing, despite my scary crying jags and whining. Seriously: I’m sick of myself, I don’t know how he hasn’t just traded me out for a non-broken girl. But he is a man of much patience, and I’m forever amazed at his ability to ignore my tendencies to become irritable when in pain. Simply put: he is great.
And on that note, I need to get ready, since C is driving me to the dreaded doctor very soon. Keep your fingers crossed that they give me something good… and hey, do you know what the street value of ibuprofen is? Just wondering.
Aug
9
Meme Time
Filed Under Uncategorized | 17 Comments
My afternoon nap has been thwarted. Was it the gigantical thunderstorm ripping through Boston that caused my sleepless state?* No, my friends, pouring rain and thunder would have been a welcome noise to my tortured ears, a soothing balm that would have lulled me off to sleep; each crack of thunder would have sent me deeper into dreamland, a happy little smile on my face. It was, in fact, the children on my street who, rather than go inside like normal people during an electrical storm, chose instead to stand screaming wordlessly on their porches for the duration of the storm while their parents sat dully looking on. Sometimes when I walk past these “parents” I want to take them by the shoulders and shake them a little, just enough so they snap out of their drooling daze, look around, think to themselves, “Why on earth are my offspring screaming like they’re being chased by a pack of wild jackals?” and usher them inside so they don’t push their nice neighbors any closer to the brink of insanity. But I don’t, and their progeny continue in their quest to become the Child Who Can Scream The Loudest and Longest For No Reason Whatsoever. I think I saw a Guinness World Records van here yesterday.
So I find myself very much awake and a little bit closer to insane than I was yesterday, and I figured what better way to pass the time than to entertain people with some insight into the inner depths of NPW’s brain? It just so happens that the lovely Lara has tagged me for a meme in which I list eight facts or habits about myself.
Rules:
A. Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
Seems easy enough, I say. Let’s do it!
B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
Umm, I think I am doing that right now, dear meme. Quit bossing me around!
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
Phew. This meme is a lot of work. I don’t think I even feel like tagging anyone, let alone going all the way over to their blog and leaving them a comment that I tagged them, then coming back here and expecting people to read and comment on mine. Besides, rules are just another way for the Man to keep us down. Screw rules. I’m a loner, Dottie. A rebel.
1. Fact: my sister offered to meet me for lunch today. This would have been a sweet gesture, except a) she owed me money anyway and weaseled out of giving it to me by buying me a $6 salad, and b) I had to drive all the way to where she works, which is basically where I work, which means I felt compelled to go into school and “get some stuff done”. So really, the fun little lunch date ended up with me getting hot and sweaty in the library, anxious about school starting back up, and irritated because I saw about 10 of my students wandering around downtown, trying to push each other into the street in front of oncoming traffic.
I did, however, find this in my salad:
Maybe the Guinness World Records van was actually looking for me?
2. Fact: this weekend the Mister and I will be heading up to the beach house in Maine for some fun in the sun. I might even tell him where to find the topless donut shop this time. Before you can ask: yes, there really is one, and no, I have not actually been there. Yet. I keep saying I’m going to go, then I get nervous thinking about women frying donuts in hot oil with no clothes on, and well, I don’t need to see those scars, ladies.
3. Habit: I’ve started playing video games again. I go through phases where I can’t be bothered for months and months, then other times I look around and 8 hours have gone by, I’m surrounded by empty liter bottles of Diet Coke, and I haven’t taken a shower by 5:30. I’m weening myself off though- I’ll save the real mania for the winter when I never want to go outside anyway.
4. Fact: we finally finished watching Arrested Development the other day. Now every time I think about starting another TV series I get a little sad, knowing nothing could top AD. Especially after last night’s debacle when we started watching Freaks and Geeks and were totally confused when it wasn’t the show we wanted. Apparently, we thought it was Undeclared. The mix-up was caused by Seth Rogen being in both shows- damn you, Seth, for being in a show about high school AND a show about college at the same time! Anyway, we were pretty disappointed in Freaks and Geeks, except for the fact that she showed up. Shout out, Dawson’s Creek!
5. Fact: speaking of movies, I got an email from Netflix informing me that I now have the option of watching movies instantly on my computer without having to wait for them to be mailed to me. Which could be awesome, except you only get so many hours to watch, and we used 20 of those minutes last night on this. And in case you were wondering, it is the most homoerotic cartoon I’ve ever seen.
6. Habit: because the weather has been so ridiculously hot and humid I’ve become accustomed to leaving the central air on all the time. Now that it’s actually pleasant outside, I can’t bring myself to open the windows and let actual air circulate. Cracking the windows open means I’ll be able to hear everything that’s going on outside in the street and I just don’t think I can handle the sounds of bickering and bitchslappery emanating from our neighbor’s apartment.
7. Fact: we are planning a group trip for my February break (which also happens to be Renna’s 30th birthday-hence, the trip!). Right now the options are looking like Costa Rica, Mexico, or Belize. We are also open to cruises in that general direction. Any suggestions for trips that are around $1000 a person would be greatly appreciated.
8. Fact: I can’t believe it’s already August! It’s almost time for Back to School shopping (what up, new fall wardrobe?), cool weather, and fair season. God, do I love me some fairs. Any takers for Deerfield, you let me know: we can stuff ourselves silly on fried dough and caramel apples until we’re ill together. Oh yeah, and the leaves are pretty, too.
*edit: I started this post on Wednesday when it was, in fact, pouring. Today is gorgeous and there’s no reason for me to be sitting inside at the computer.
Aug
6
I despise bra shopping. I hate searching for them, trying them on, purchasing them, and basically everything to do with bras that doesn’t involve me jumping on a trampoline. Because then? Bras are my friend. It’s not fun to get a black eye from your own appendage. Trust me on that one.
Anyway, I recently had to retire one of my favorites and I realized that I desperately needed to supplement my bra collection. Like, right now. I’ve always been jealous of the girls that can just wander into H&M and buy some cute little ruffle of lace shaped like a triangle that’s supposed to cover their chest for $6.95, or better yet, the girls that can wear little halter tops and tank tops with no bra at all; alas, that life is not for me. By sheer force of genetics I have been doomed to a life of waiting for Macy’s One Day Sale so that I can try to swoop down on some $50 bras and hope that I don’t have to elbow someone’s Grandma in the face for trying to take the last pink one on the rack.
Cue brilliant idea: I’d just look at the ones I have now and order a bunch of the exact same ones online!
I started off on the right track, I swear. But then I remembered a couple other things that I was going to try to pick up at Target but that I kept forgetting and I figured I could take care of those items, too, while I was being so efficient and all. I was actually pretty pleased with myself for taking care of my bidness in one fell swoop. And it wasn’t until my amazon shopping cart had a queen-sized air bed, an aromatherapy essential oils set, a Nintendo DS game that looked kinda fun, some lip gloss that I saw in Sephora and just loved, a Sonicare toothbrush, a digital picture frame, and some Cadbury chocolate in it and my total was hovering around $500 that I realized I had never even looked at bras. And that I was about to spend $500 on stuff that I TOTALLY DID NOT NEED.
I deleted the entire shopping cart, looked up the one bra that I feel comfortable buying without trying it on (and wearing it for the better part of a day before I can tell if it’s going to make me look like I belong on the cover of Chesty LaRue), found one available on sale, and purchased it. Of course, they only had one available in the style I wanted. One. One bra. That means I need to go through this process, like, eight more times. Sigh.
On a slightly unrelated note, the company I ordered from was called Breakout Bras. I don’t know about you, but “breaking out” is probably the last thing I want to do from a bra- either from busting it open with my chest, Superman-styles, or obtaining some type of break out rash, which would no doubt be a fitting punishment for buying a bra online from some ghetto store called Breakout Bras.
Aug
2
Why I’m Wearing This Stupid Old T-Shirt
Filed Under Uncategorized | 15 Comments
Last night I broke my own vow and ventured down into the basement after dark to do laundry. Under normal circumstances I would never make such a foolhardy move; I’ve watched enough horror movies and CourtTV in my lifetime to know that basement + nightfall + virginal young woman (what? I said virginal, not virgin!) = recipe for a blood bath the likes of which my small town (err… large city) has never seen. Alas, the circumstances were not normal, as I had left my brand new tank top in the washer from the night before and I totally needed it for today, and I definitely was not going to wake up early just to put my tank top in the dryer, and besides, it would be way gross to leave my laundry sitting wet in the washer for two days.
What’s that? Why did I need it for today? Well. Because it was going to be hot out, duh. And besides, it’s new! Cut me some slack here, okay? Let’s just pretend, for argument’s sake, that I had somewhere important to be and only a tank top would suffice.
See? I told you it was worth it.
Anyway, so picture this scene: I get to the top of the basement stairs and click on the feeble light that our landlord has set up for us, which is basically a 30-watt lightbulb on an extension cord running down into the depths of darkness. Only, the light doesn’t turn on. I click it back and forth a couple times, just like those naive idiots in the movies where you want to scream at them “Go back! Go back now, before it’s too late! Only bad things wait at the bottom of those stairs!”, except in my head I’m just saying, “Huh. Guess the light got unplugged. Funny,” and I head back to the kitchen to get our flashlight.
I! KNOW!
A flashlight! What surer way is there to be horribly mutilated and eventually killed at the hands of a psychopath than venturing into an unlit basement at night armed only with a flashlight? Unfortunately, it isn’t until I’ve made it halfway down the stairs that my mind starts to churn and spew out various basement/killer scenarios, but by then I can practically hear my tank top crying out to be dried. I paused on the steps, torn between my keen fashion sense and the near certainty of my untimely demise. And rather than listen to reason and the valuable lessons I have learned from television, I chose to continue down the steps and liberate my shirt from the wash. Besides, there’s another light switch at the bottom of the stairs, so if I can just… make it… there… clickclickclick. Nothing.
By this time the hairs on my arms and neck are standing up and every sensor is on high alert and I’m pretty sure that that serial killer I saw on Forensic Files was never caught and wasn’t he around the Boston area? As quickly as I could I crawled behind the landlord’s dryer to where mine is conveniently shoved into a corner behind the furnace. My flashlight is all shaky and I’m digging through the wet clothes and shoving them into the dryer, half of them are falling onto the nasty basement floor and I say a little prayer to the Gods of Lost Laundry that my tank top is among those that made it into the dryer because by now I just need to get the HELL out of there. Then I hear it: a shuffly little creaking noise. I froze, half crouched behind the furnace, my back aching from being in that position and listen hard. I can almost feel someone there.
Scrreeeee.
Seriously: a sound straight out of a monster movie. The door is being pushed open and it’s pitch black and so I did the only thing a sensible girl could do in the situation: I screamed. I screamed so loud that I didn’t even hear the answering scream, or the thud of my landlord’s little old mother falling backwards into her apartment, spilling her laundry basket everywhere. That is, until I stopped screaming and I heard her swearing in fast Greek and she finally turned on the light in her room and glared at me.
I almost wish I had a picture of what I looked like right then. All I know is that one hand was clutching at my heart, the other was clutching a handful of socks and C’s underwear, and I was half bent over behind the furnace in this woman’s house. When I went upstairs and looked in the mirror I was startlingly pale. I’m actually surprised I didn’t pass out- if ever there was a time to do it, it seems like that would have been it.
I muttered an apology and ran for the stairs, still holding said socks and underwear. She muttered something in Greek after me, but since I don’t speak Greek and was already embarrassed beyond words anyway, I headed back to the safety of my own home. Once I got ready for bed and texted C about the whole ordeal and calmed down a bit, I realized that I had never turned on the dryer.
On the up side, they are all leaving for Greece today for the better part of the month. Maybe three weeks in the island sun will help her forget about the crazy woman that rents out her upstairs, who likes to do her laundry by flashlight and screamed in her face. One can only hope.