Adrian has begun to defy the laws of gravity and physics in one go.
How can someone so tiny be so fast, especially when it comes to scaling furniture or creating steps out of boxes to reach forbidden items?
I've come to recognize the deadly silence: the quiet that indicates that he is up to something and that what he is up to is no good. How he manages to flip a box over, climb into the rocking chair and proceed to lean waaay over the edge in hope of reaching the curtains in the time it takes me to fold a blanket in thirds and drape over his crib rail is beyond me. How he manages to do it silently while he is 3 feet away is even more baffling.
Clearly, I am raising a the next generation's Superman.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Monday, February 20, 2006
I don't wanna...
I don't wanna (fill in the blank).
I am experiencing another wave of apathy.
I don't want to get dressed. I don't want to cook dinner. I don't want to go online and buy those VERY NECESSARY plane tickets. I don't want finish my sewing projects, crochet projects, or any number of other projects staring me in the face. I don't even feel like sitting on the couch eating chocolate until my blood sugar skyrockets and leaves me in a jittery trance.
It's entirely possible that I'm experiencing that seasonal-affective-disorder or cabin-fever or whatever.
It's too cold to play outside and I don't even feel like getting into the car and driving the baby somewhere warm to play*.
So what am I doing instead? Piddling on the internet.
piddle...piddle...piddle.
*He's napping right now. I may have the blahs but I'm no baby abandoner.
I am experiencing another wave of apathy.
I don't want to get dressed. I don't want to cook dinner. I don't want to go online and buy those VERY NECESSARY plane tickets. I don't want finish my sewing projects, crochet projects, or any number of other projects staring me in the face. I don't even feel like sitting on the couch eating chocolate until my blood sugar skyrockets and leaves me in a jittery trance.
It's entirely possible that I'm experiencing that seasonal-affective-disorder or cabin-fever or whatever.
It's too cold to play outside and I don't even feel like getting into the car and driving the baby somewhere warm to play*.
So what am I doing instead? Piddling on the internet.
piddle...piddle...piddle.
*He's napping right now. I may have the blahs but I'm no baby abandoner.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
The rash that would not die
Adrian has been suffering, off and on, from a rash in his diaper area since...July? And every time we'd point it out to a doctor they'd shrug and give us a prescription for some topical ointment. But after much sleuthing and close observation of the stubborn evil rash we came to the cause: milk. And milk products.
My son's body is vehemently opposed to any foodstuffs that originated from a cow's teat.
Do you know how much crap (that is to say food) contains milk these days? Forget the big, obvious, easy things like biscuits (butter), pancakes (milk and butter), cake (milk). I'm talking about things like...Original flavor Goldfish crackers. Ramen Noodles. Golden Grahams cereal.
I am now a box-reader. I have found myself sneaking off to the pantry in anticipation of meal times, furtively reading the ingredient listings on the side of boxes, trying to puzzle out what is safe and what is going to give Adrian 3 days of painful diaper-bum, which may or may not turn into open sores.
I have discovered that you can make pancakes with rice milk, and that fakey-butter-in-a-tub stuff is actually useful (although the idea of butter-by-science still grosses me out). I'm still looking for good tasting not-cheese, and I'm wondering if I could substitute kefir (made from camel's milk) for yogurt.
It's like having to do a grade-school science project with real-life implications. With more stress and no fancy blue ribbon at the end of it all.
My son's body is vehemently opposed to any foodstuffs that originated from a cow's teat.
Do you know how much crap (that is to say food) contains milk these days? Forget the big, obvious, easy things like biscuits (butter), pancakes (milk and butter), cake (milk). I'm talking about things like...Original flavor Goldfish crackers. Ramen Noodles. Golden Grahams cereal.
I am now a box-reader. I have found myself sneaking off to the pantry in anticipation of meal times, furtively reading the ingredient listings on the side of boxes, trying to puzzle out what is safe and what is going to give Adrian 3 days of painful diaper-bum, which may or may not turn into open sores.
I have discovered that you can make pancakes with rice milk, and that fakey-butter-in-a-tub stuff is actually useful (although the idea of butter-by-science still grosses me out). I'm still looking for good tasting not-cheese, and I'm wondering if I could substitute kefir (made from camel's milk) for yogurt.
It's like having to do a grade-school science project with real-life implications. With more stress and no fancy blue ribbon at the end of it all.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Five days later
Adrian has been Captain Cranky Pants for the past 4 out of 5 days and I gotta tell you I'm not loving it.
I think it's no small coincidence that he's started saying Mama as well. See how I can't sell him to the gypsies now that he can tell authorities that I belong to him?
It also seems as though he's ready to give this whole talking thing a go. He's now repeating about 50% of what he hears, and whatever he doesn't get/can't say is replaced by babbling in the same cadence. You should hear him narrate A Close Shave (one of the Wallace and Gromit shorts):
Adrian: tuck (translation: truck)
A: wuuf (dog)
A: baa (sheep)
A: tuck (truck)
A: wuuf (dog)
A: (sign language for sleeping) (Wallace asleep)
A: tuck bye-bye (truck bye-bye)
The whole freaking movie gets commentary, interspersed with "'at?" (What's that?). It's pretty entertaining. His new favorite movie is now Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone...up until the kids actually get to Hogwarts, and then he wants to watch something else. He also enjoys the trailers that precede the movie Shark's Tale, but has no interest in the actual film.
He has grasped the concept of 'please' as well. After every request we get the sign language for 'please', and if we say no he gives us 'please' more adamantly. And occasionally, he'll tell us please while standing in the middle of the kitchen and then we have to figure out what he wants. Cheerios? Mighty Bites? Grahams? Flashlight? To look out the window?
It's like charades with a circus monkey.
I think it's no small coincidence that he's started saying Mama as well. See how I can't sell him to the gypsies now that he can tell authorities that I belong to him?
It also seems as though he's ready to give this whole talking thing a go. He's now repeating about 50% of what he hears, and whatever he doesn't get/can't say is replaced by babbling in the same cadence. You should hear him narrate A Close Shave (one of the Wallace and Gromit shorts):
Adrian: tuck (translation: truck)
A: wuuf (dog)
A: baa (sheep)
A: tuck (truck)
A: wuuf (dog)
A: (sign language for sleeping) (Wallace asleep)
A: tuck bye-bye (truck bye-bye)
The whole freaking movie gets commentary, interspersed with "'at?" (What's that?). It's pretty entertaining. His new favorite movie is now Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone...up until the kids actually get to Hogwarts, and then he wants to watch something else. He also enjoys the trailers that precede the movie Shark's Tale, but has no interest in the actual film.
He has grasped the concept of 'please' as well. After every request we get the sign language for 'please', and if we say no he gives us 'please' more adamantly. And occasionally, he'll tell us please while standing in the middle of the kitchen and then we have to figure out what he wants. Cheerios? Mighty Bites? Grahams? Flashlight? To look out the window?
It's like charades with a circus monkey.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Adrian's stats
We went to the doctor on Thursday, where Adrian received two vaccinations and a bucketful of terror.
We walk into the waiting room, sign in. There are 4 other children in the room, all boys, all older than Adrian. He's alternately fascinated and clinging to my leg for dear life. He seems fine, but unsure of himself around children.
Then we go into the exam room.
He looks around and his bottom lip starts to quiver a little bit. As soon as I begin to take off his clothes, he starts to cry. Real honest-to-god tears. He cries every time the nurse or the doctor look at him, let alone touch him. He was clinging so tightly to me that had he been able to hide under my clothing I have no doubt he would have.
But it was all over in 30 minutes, and this is what we have to report:
Height: 29 5/8"
Weight: 23 pounds.
Which puts him in the 25% for his age group.
I'm not too worried about the fact that he's "below average" for his size because he's right where he should be as far as his cognitive & motor skills are concerned.
To quote his Grandpa: he's small, but mighty!
We walk into the waiting room, sign in. There are 4 other children in the room, all boys, all older than Adrian. He's alternately fascinated and clinging to my leg for dear life. He seems fine, but unsure of himself around children.
Then we go into the exam room.
He looks around and his bottom lip starts to quiver a little bit. As soon as I begin to take off his clothes, he starts to cry. Real honest-to-god tears. He cries every time the nurse or the doctor look at him, let alone touch him. He was clinging so tightly to me that had he been able to hide under my clothing I have no doubt he would have.
But it was all over in 30 minutes, and this is what we have to report:
Height: 29 5/8"
Weight: 23 pounds.
Which puts him in the 25% for his age group.
I'm not too worried about the fact that he's "below average" for his size because he's right where he should be as far as his cognitive & motor skills are concerned.
To quote his Grandpa: he's small, but mighty!
Friday, February 03, 2006
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Is this thing on?
Okay. Alright and fine.
After months of denial I'm admitting it.
I'm lonely.
Soooooooo lonely.
That's was the big benefit of a multi-generational household: there's always someone there to talk, or watch tv, or cook, or just sit quietly with you. Which isn't to say that Adrian hanging off of my body 2/3 of the time he's awake isn't companionship, it's just...
I came very late to the idea of girls-as-friends. Up until college I had three close girlfriends. All the rest of the people I spent my extra time with happened to be guys. And it's not 'cause I'm all into sports, or whatever--I happen to be a very specific kind of dork: the art-slash-theater variety of dork. And when I say theater, I don't mean acting--I'm a set-building, light-hanging, costumes-and-makeup kind of theater person. Because, let's be honest, I am a terrible actress. Seriously--I can't get past the fact that people are looking at me and it makes me self-conscious. By that token, most all of the back-stage crew in high school were boys, and I fit in well playing with power tools and hauling around heavy crap. But then I got to college and, first of all, the dorms are divided by sex, so that puts you in routine, close contact with other girls; and second of all I met a great number of like-minded really amazing women. And I miss them. Sure we talk on the phone and email, but that's nothing like the face-to-face, share a hunk of cake kind of companionship that you find when you see each other regularly.
Aaron's great, he's my best friend, I tell him everything and he makes me laugh so hard my sides hurt. But he's not a girl. He can't do girl-things with me, he won't go see girly movies (but I won't go see horror films so we're square), he can't help me color my hair or go shopping or talk about how sexy Heath Ledger is. (Those cheekbones, my god!)
So, yes. I'm lonely for some estrogen-related bonding time.
I have a spare bedroom and I'll cook you breakfast!
After months of denial I'm admitting it.
I'm lonely.
Soooooooo lonely.
That's was the big benefit of a multi-generational household: there's always someone there to talk, or watch tv, or cook, or just sit quietly with you. Which isn't to say that Adrian hanging off of my body 2/3 of the time he's awake isn't companionship, it's just...
I came very late to the idea of girls-as-friends. Up until college I had three close girlfriends. All the rest of the people I spent my extra time with happened to be guys. And it's not 'cause I'm all into sports, or whatever--I happen to be a very specific kind of dork: the art-slash-theater variety of dork. And when I say theater, I don't mean acting--I'm a set-building, light-hanging, costumes-and-makeup kind of theater person. Because, let's be honest, I am a terrible actress. Seriously--I can't get past the fact that people are looking at me and it makes me self-conscious. By that token, most all of the back-stage crew in high school were boys, and I fit in well playing with power tools and hauling around heavy crap. But then I got to college and, first of all, the dorms are divided by sex, so that puts you in routine, close contact with other girls; and second of all I met a great number of like-minded really amazing women. And I miss them. Sure we talk on the phone and email, but that's nothing like the face-to-face, share a hunk of cake kind of companionship that you find when you see each other regularly.
Aaron's great, he's my best friend, I tell him everything and he makes me laugh so hard my sides hurt. But he's not a girl. He can't do girl-things with me, he won't go see girly movies (but I won't go see horror films so we're square), he can't help me color my hair or go shopping or talk about how sexy Heath Ledger is. (Those cheekbones, my god!)
So, yes. I'm lonely for some estrogen-related bonding time.
I have a spare bedroom and I'll cook you breakfast!
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
Update: 15 months
Dear Adrian;
First let me apologize for being remiss regarding the updates on your past two months of life. I have plenty of excuses, none of them are particularly good ones. Now, on to the good stuff!
If there was ever any doubt that you are a little boy, this past month will have put all of that aside. Our days consist of trucks, blocks, tractors, and making farting noises by blowing into our hands. That's the only thing I do that is regarded as consistently hilarious--and your laugh is so rewarding and contagious that I have no plans to stop. Farting noises aside, you still have a love for jewelry and dressing up. You've finally come around to wearing hats, so the 6 I picked up at the Halloween clearance are getting regular rotation. My favorite would have to be the construction helmet-diaper-socks ensemble you put together.
You still won't eat any green vegetables, but you're eating half your weight in fruit daily. You also have developed an affinity for pancakes, marshmallows, and anything off of my plate.
Oh! And the climbing! You've been caught scaling the microwave (which lives on the floor due to a lack of counter space), furniture, and the dining room chairs (but only if there's someone in them). All of this wouldn't be such a big deal, but you seem to have no concept of edges and have tumbled repeatedly to the ground. My favorite is when you're on the couch: you turn so you're facing the back of the couch and then proceed to hang your butt off of the front of the couch, which ultimately yields a surprised look as gravity takes over.
Every day is like a marathon as you are now taking only one nap a day and spend your waking hours alternately running all over the house or eating. At the end of each day I marvel that I've made it and try not to think about the fact that it starts all over at 6 the next morning. You wear me out--but I love you and I'd rather do this than have to leave you with someone else all day.
You're my favorite.
Love,
Mama
P.S.--You can start saying Mama any time now. Really.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Mark your calendars.
This was the first truly god-awful, miserable day that I've spent with Adrian since he came into the world nearly 15 months ago. I knew that they were coming, I just didn't know how exhausting they'd be. I spent ALL of my energy today trying to keep my cool. And I am drained. Sapped. I have no energy for any of the projects I was going to attempt tonight: run a set of block prints in the studio; cook dinner; clean the bathroom; mop the kitchen floor; upload, edit and post pictures to web.
I realize that half of today's awfulness stems from the fact that Adrian's a little under the weather with giant boogers of doom, but the other half I cannot account for. I just spent 15 minutes cleaning baby poop out of the bath tub (how glamorous the life I lead, no?), plus another 10 scrubbing his urine out of the living room carpet. When he runs free, he pees freely.
So I'm off to throw a frozen pizza in the oven, knock back a glass of wine, and stare blankly at the television. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel up to regaling you with cute stories of the boy wonder, like how he says 'cheese' but pronounces it 'chiss' or how he squints in anticipation of the camera's flash.
I realize that half of today's awfulness stems from the fact that Adrian's a little under the weather with giant boogers of doom, but the other half I cannot account for. I just spent 15 minutes cleaning baby poop out of the bath tub (how glamorous the life I lead, no?), plus another 10 scrubbing his urine out of the living room carpet. When he runs free, he pees freely.
So I'm off to throw a frozen pizza in the oven, knock back a glass of wine, and stare blankly at the television. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel up to regaling you with cute stories of the boy wonder, like how he says 'cheese' but pronounces it 'chiss' or how he squints in anticipation of the camera's flash.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
deaf or just stupid.
So I've been living in this state (Illinois) for 9 months and just yesterday I realized that our senator's name is Barack Obama.
Not Morocco Bama, as I had previously thought.
Sometimes my own ignorance really surprises me.
Not Morocco Bama, as I had previously thought.
Sometimes my own ignorance really surprises me.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Back in Central time
We've been home for--what is this, Wednesday?--a day and a half.
In that time, Adrian has caused me to have at least one case of mild cardiac arrest. It's just like Sarah says, they are totally listening to you.
Monday night, I'm on the phone with my mother-in-law and she's telling me about how someone she works with has a baby that's about Adrian's age and how this baby's favorite thing to do is to climb onto the coffee table and jump off. And I said to her, thank goodness our baby isn't interested in climbing up onto things.
Tuesday evening, we're putting away groceries and Adrian is chasing the cats. I load my arms up with things that need to go down the hall to the pantry, turn around and this is what I see:
Adrian, atop a box that contains a 7 piece glass barware set.
I shout "oh, holy fuck!" because my arms are full and at any second he could fall and bash his brains out on the tile floor. Aaron drops what he's doing and comes bounding across the kitchen, and removes Adrian from the box, as I empty my arms of all the pantry-bound glass bottles and try to swallow my heart back into my chest cavity.
Since when did Adrian become a box-climbing monkey baby?!
Since I was fool enough to open my mouth and say otherwise.
In that time, Adrian has caused me to have at least one case of mild cardiac arrest. It's just like Sarah says, they are totally listening to you.
Monday night, I'm on the phone with my mother-in-law and she's telling me about how someone she works with has a baby that's about Adrian's age and how this baby's favorite thing to do is to climb onto the coffee table and jump off. And I said to her, thank goodness our baby isn't interested in climbing up onto things.
Tuesday evening, we're putting away groceries and Adrian is chasing the cats. I load my arms up with things that need to go down the hall to the pantry, turn around and this is what I see:
Adrian, atop a box that contains a 7 piece glass barware set.
I shout "oh, holy fuck!" because my arms are full and at any second he could fall and bash his brains out on the tile floor. Aaron drops what he's doing and comes bounding across the kitchen, and removes Adrian from the box, as I empty my arms of all the pantry-bound glass bottles and try to swallow my heart back into my chest cavity.
Since when did Adrian become a box-climbing monkey baby?!
Since I was fool enough to open my mouth and say otherwise.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
One tired baby
I think that it's a darn shame that my mom doesn't live closer. Purely through her ministrations, Adrian has been tired enough to request an early bedtime for the past 2 days.
He's been a little cranky today, and I think it's safe to say that we're both looking forward to going home. We miss Aaron and our boring little routine.
It was great fun to see everyone (Karlee, Janya, Lyre, Kathleen, Fuz, Susyn, Judi, and I feel as though I'm forgetting someone) again, and I do look forward to our next visit, but it's time to go home.
Adrian has developed one new trick to add to his repetoire: he shakes his head "no". And means it. Used to be he'd just shake his head like that to make his inner ear go all wonky, but no more! Now he can tell me just how he feels. He's been adding a little flair to the end of the head-shake; sometimes it's a full-head tilt to the side, other times it's his eyeballs rolled up into his skull. Either way, he's fairly pleased with himself.
He's been a little cranky today, and I think it's safe to say that we're both looking forward to going home. We miss Aaron and our boring little routine.
It was great fun to see everyone (Karlee, Janya, Lyre, Kathleen, Fuz, Susyn, Judi, and I feel as though I'm forgetting someone) again, and I do look forward to our next visit, but it's time to go home.
Adrian has developed one new trick to add to his repetoire: he shakes his head "no". And means it. Used to be he'd just shake his head like that to make his inner ear go all wonky, but no more! Now he can tell me just how he feels. He's been adding a little flair to the end of the head-shake; sometimes it's a full-head tilt to the side, other times it's his eyeballs rolled up into his skull. Either way, he's fairly pleased with himself.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
the zoo! and other adventures.
Adrian and I have been in Arlington for 4ish days now. In this time, we have seen Jono turn 20 (egad!), Adrian biff it on the driveway (again), and old friends.
Today Adrian, Gramma, and I went to the National Zoo. We did not see the pandas. We did see hippos, elephants, giraffes, otters, various small mammals, apes--the orangutans were enjoying a snack of popcorn and Adrian repeatedly tried to reach through the glass to retrieve it from their hands. He also tried to go home with three other families of small children; going so far as to chase after one little girl saying "baby! baby!" with outstretched arms. He's going into a monastery tomorrow! No contact with girls until he's 45!
Adrian has also braved the gauntlet of whirlwindy dog tails on numerous occasions. He's become so heavy-handed with the food dispensing that Blaze assumes anything that falls to the floor around Adrian is food, leading the dog to try (and fail) ingesting crayons, plastic animals, measuring spoons, and a rubber spatula.
Good times.
Tomorrow we get to see some more friendly faces, including a jaunt to Gramma's place of work.
Now I am going to go eat some tasty tasty salmon with my parents.
Today Adrian, Gramma, and I went to the National Zoo. We did not see the pandas. We did see hippos, elephants, giraffes, otters, various small mammals, apes--the orangutans were enjoying a snack of popcorn and Adrian repeatedly tried to reach through the glass to retrieve it from their hands. He also tried to go home with three other families of small children; going so far as to chase after one little girl saying "baby! baby!" with outstretched arms. He's going into a monastery tomorrow! No contact with girls until he's 45!
Adrian has also braved the gauntlet of whirlwindy dog tails on numerous occasions. He's become so heavy-handed with the food dispensing that Blaze assumes anything that falls to the floor around Adrian is food, leading the dog to try (and fail) ingesting crayons, plastic animals, measuring spoons, and a rubber spatula.
Good times.
Tomorrow we get to see some more friendly faces, including a jaunt to Gramma's place of work.
Now I am going to go eat some tasty tasty salmon with my parents.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
De-lurk! De-lurk!
You, out there!
I know that you stop by on a regular basis to see what's what.
This week has been declared de-lurking week! The idea is that you tell us, the blog writers that you're actually reading. It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.
So, you can say hello!
Tell me if you prefer hot cocoa or tea.
Tell me how you like your potatoes.
Tell me the first teacher who made a positive impact on you (Hello, Mrs. Bumgartner!)
Or, tell me your pirate name--mine's Black Calico Meg.
Just say something!
De-lurking week is brought to by the lovely lady at Paper Napkin.
Now, I'm off to de-lurk at a few sites meself, matey. Arrrr.
I know that you stop by on a regular basis to see what's what.
This week has been declared de-lurking week! The idea is that you tell us, the blog writers that you're actually reading. It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.
So, you can say hello!
Tell me if you prefer hot cocoa or tea.
Tell me how you like your potatoes.
Tell me the first teacher who made a positive impact on you (Hello, Mrs. Bumgartner!)
Or, tell me your pirate name--mine's Black Calico Meg.
Just say something!
De-lurking week is brought to by the lovely lady at Paper Napkin.
Now, I'm off to de-lurk at a few sites meself, matey. Arrrr.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Jono's here!
(photo) The guitar lesson
Jono, my younger brother, arrived safe and sound yesterday afternoon. He's settled right in and is already sharing his musical leanings with Adrian.
I love watching the two of them interact--each is equally interested in what the other is doing. And, as we all know, Adrian loves an audience.
Jono will be here until Sunday, and then Adrian and I will fly with Jono to Arlington where we will spend a week with my parents.
I plan on consuming my weight in almond croissants from the corner bakery while at home. I love those things. I would live off of them. I would live in a house made of them. I would probably trade in my car in exchange for a lifetime supply of almond croissants from Pastries by Randolph.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
ain't nobody dope as me...
because i am fresh from my first shower in days.
plumbing problems resolved! (see bitch and moan)
We can now do laundry and run the dishwasher and shower and flush the toilet! (But not before I had to drive down to the fast food joint to poop.)
I take back every cruel word...I love you, indoor plumbing.
plumbing problems resolved! (see bitch and moan)
We can now do laundry and run the dishwasher and shower and flush the toilet! (But not before I had to drive down to the fast food joint to poop.)
I take back every cruel word...I love you, indoor plumbing.
bitch and moan
I am annoyed.
Truly, deeply, to the core of my being. I am just this side of pissed off.
And I have to ask you, Internet, why does NO ONE EVER LISTEN TO ME?!
We're having plumbing problems--they follow us wherever we go--so I call the landlord and say "hey, mr. landlord, we're having some plumbing issues which could turn right serious right quick. Please send someone to SNAKE THE LINE"
Then I get a call from Mr. Property manager, we set up an appointment and everything is hunky-dory. (Yes, I said hunky-dory. Yes, I expect to be mocked for it) But hours later, the problem escalates, so I call back mr. property manager and say "hey, when I flush the toilet, it sounds like it's raining in the basement. any chance we could get someone out here tonight?" And they said no-can-do, there are ever more serious plumbing problems on hand at the moment. So bright and early, mr. plumber shows up and replaces the wax ring under the toilet--stopping the basement rain of bacteria water. However, the LINE IS STILL CLOGGED. And this particular plumber doesn't snake lines, so he has to call mr. property manager and mr. property manager has to call mr. line snaker. So I'm waiting to hear when we can expect mr. line snaker and whether or not we'll need to rent a port-a-john until Monday. Because (file this under TMI) this is not a household that can wait 3 days to poop.
When I asked for someone to come snake the line did he think I was kidding? Obviously he doesn't know of my experience with clogged lines and the sewage flood of 2003--an experience from which I will never fully recover--but when I ask for something, I expect to get it, dammit!
Enjoy the photo of Adrian --because who doesn't love a baby with a mohawk?
(and don't cry for me, Argentina)
Truly, deeply, to the core of my being. I am just this side of pissed off.
And I have to ask you, Internet, why does NO ONE EVER LISTEN TO ME?!
We're having plumbing problems--they follow us wherever we go--so I call the landlord and say "hey, mr. landlord, we're having some plumbing issues which could turn right serious right quick. Please send someone to SNAKE THE LINE"
Then I get a call from Mr. Property manager, we set up an appointment and everything is hunky-dory. (Yes, I said hunky-dory. Yes, I expect to be mocked for it) But hours later, the problem escalates, so I call back mr. property manager and say "hey, when I flush the toilet, it sounds like it's raining in the basement. any chance we could get someone out here tonight?" And they said no-can-do, there are ever more serious plumbing problems on hand at the moment. So bright and early, mr. plumber shows up and replaces the wax ring under the toilet--stopping the basement rain of bacteria water. However, the LINE IS STILL CLOGGED. And this particular plumber doesn't snake lines, so he has to call mr. property manager and mr. property manager has to call mr. line snaker. So I'm waiting to hear when we can expect mr. line snaker and whether or not we'll need to rent a port-a-john until Monday. Because (file this under TMI) this is not a household that can wait 3 days to poop.
When I asked for someone to come snake the line did he think I was kidding? Obviously he doesn't know of my experience with clogged lines and the sewage flood of 2003--an experience from which I will never fully recover--but when I ask for something, I expect to get it, dammit!
Enjoy the photo of Adrian --because who doesn't love a baby with a mohawk?
(and don't cry for me, Argentina)
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