Anyways, she posted a couple of days ago about a nightmare involving stuff gushing from her bathroom ceiling. This reminded me of a story involving the bathroom in our first apartment after Joe and I were married. Which then reminded me of another story involving that same apartment. I allowed Andy to pick which of the two she'd prefer me to share first and so of course you shall first be blessed with the story involving my nakedness. Just a warning that this post may have a "squeamish" quotient that has nothing to do with aforementioned exposure of my body.
It was May of 1999. Joe and I had lived in this craptastic awful little apartment since our wedding in August of the year before. After almost a year of obnoxious neighbors, fire alarms, attacks by killer bees, kids peering in our bedroom windows, seepage from the ceiling and almost being electrocuted by our stove, we were thrilled to be moving soon to a newer, nicer apartment.
A week or so before the move, our "home" an obstacle course of boxes, Joe was at the sink shaving when I stepped into the shower. I turned on the water and reached up to adjust the shower head. This is because Joe is much taller than I am and just like he never puts the toilet seat down, he also never readjusts the shower head. Anyways, I reached up and the shower head felt... fuzzy. Wait, what? Fuzzy?
As I pulled my hand away from the offending fixture, I realized there was a millimonster on my hand. I don't know what other people call them but I call them millimonsters. They are furry and have eleventy bajillion legs and they run like Olympic sprinters.
I did what anyone would do in my situation. I screamed like the girl I am, flicked that beasty off my hand, stepped in the toilet on my way out of the shower, grabbing my towel mid-stride and demanded that Joe take care of the situation IMMEDIATELY. He gallantly killed the savage predator and then scooped it onto a fly swatter to dispose of it outside. I, of course, followed him, still ranting and raving like
"OMG I hate it here. I am so glad we are moving out of this HOLE of an apartment!!! This place SUCKS!!!" I screamed at him as he tossed my assailant into the yard across the parking lot.
It was at this point that I happened to realize I was outside, in my towel. Also outside? A small U-Haul, a young girl, and what appeared to be her mother. The girl sort of waved. "Hi, I'm moving into 3a".
What other response was there? "I'm sure you'll love it here."
P.S. My most heartfelt apologies to Andy for making her think she had missed something serious and throwing her into a tizzy. And I totally mean that because I have been in exactly that situation before and it is not fun.