Oh, something. I don't know.

I just finished writing something for the newsletter. It makes me even less likely to find something readable to blather about here, believe it or not.

I know. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse.

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Remember the mouldy walls I mentioned (somewhat bitchily, although I think understandably so) earlier? Well, the update on that is that the workmen show up excruciatingly early every day to do a little more work in the bathroom. Now, it should be said before I go any further that I'm generally up at godawful in the morning (not that I like to be, but at this point I'm resigned to it), but being awake doesn't necessarily equal being ready for public consumption. If I don't have to be at work early I'll stay in pyjamas and pillow head until the last possible minute, lying on the bed and watching the previous night's recorded late shows with one opened eye.

I not sure why on the one opened eye part, but it always seems to work out that way. Maybe because the other eye is often still buried in the pillow?

Could be.

Anyway, what with the daily morning wall-mudding and sanding (I hope to Whomever that they're actually going to paint today), I've had to be up and put together (more or less) by eight o'clock these past few days. Oh, I know it's my apartment and there are no rules saying that I can't open the door for the workers while still wearing my pyjamas, but the facts are that A) I never know how much access I'll have to the bathroom while the men are working, and B) no one really needs the joy of me in pyjamas and pillow head. With one opened eye...

Er, yeah.

The problem with all of this is that once I'm up, combed, dressed, and fed, I may just as well go to work. And the problem with that is that I'm one my last week of part-time work before summer hours start, so I'd be much happier NOT being here early until I have to be.

For that matter, I'd be much happier in my pyjamas and pillow head.

I like pyjamas.

Pillow head, not so much... but it kind of goes with.




Ah well. Not much to be done (except whinge. I'm good at that part) until things in the apartment are put back together. Stay tuned for tomorrow's post where I will probably be complaining about the paint job (if they've started it), because I suspect that the management, having put actual money into repairs, will now try to save a few bucks by telling the men to only paint the new walls and leave the rest of the fifteen-plus-year-old scuzzy paint in that room alone to continue being scuzzy.

Do I need to remind you that landlords are officially on notice?

Well, they are.