Nothing rings in the new year like faulty plumbing and sewage in the basement. First, the apartment starts to smell of dead animals, but we can’t identify where it’s coming from. Colin showers twice, just in case its him, which is honestly hilarious. Then we check the basement, and OH, look. Lake Shiticaca.
This comes after our washing machine flooded down the steps and into the kitchen/basement, our dishwasher overflowed, and the chimney was left uncapped, open to weather, insects, animals, flexible burglars, and Krampus. At this point, our brows are somewhat furrowed. In other words, WE PISSED.
It is my habit to find a lesson in the things that make me want to punch drywall. So I decided that the world is sending me this message – Even when you’re chest deep in poo, chin up, darlin’. When something else inevitably goes wrong with the apartment, I’m going to remind myself of that. Eventually, when I have to take a ferry from my bed to the bathroom because the first two floors are submerged in sewage, I want people to be like, Woah, that girl is not easily rattled! I want to be as un-bothered as Rihanna at the beach.
I may be living in a lemon, but I’m lucky. I have three bookshelves full of books, a closet of comfy sweaters, a mermaid tail blanket, a *wine hole, and a damn mashed potato cookbook. I’m spoiled rotten. Now I smell like it too.
* The wine hole is a literal hole in the wall where we keep our wine, but I have taken up pointing to my mouth and saying,”Put it in the wine hole.”