The Little Ukrainian Fellow has gone to lunch, it seems. Hopefully someplace with a bathroom so he can releef himself there instead of heer. Myself, I am mortified to report that I just peed in the shower and washed it down with some water I hoarded before TLUF shut it all off. Oh, then I Simple Greened the entire tub in case he comes up here and says, “Can I see your tub?” which I have convinced myself he will do any moment. My mania boils down to this: I simply cannot pee where I cannot flush or pass it off as someone else’s, especially if there’s any chance that TLUF will need to use my bathroom. If people see my pee, I will kill myself. And if anybody says TMI, I fear I will likely just flip OUT, given my jackhammering duress, and go on a state-wide killing spree. Tomorrow, I suppose, because today, I heef to be heer so TLUF can do verk.
I have an apple on the bed with me which I’m now afraid to eat because it looks far too juicy. Too full of pee-making ingredients. So it just sits there, tempting me, all biblical-like and such. It’s sad, really, how my behavior today is being dictated much more by my willy-nilly hypotheses about TLUF’s bathroom habits than any actual destruction of my current abode. I mean, I just peed in the shower, for God’s sake, because I am truly terrified he’ll need to use the bathroom and I could not go on living if he were to see my unflushed pee.
My behavior is very fear based today. Or psychosis based. Potato, Potahto.
I don’t like having workers in my house. Especially workers who tell me I can’t do things I would normally do, like pee in the toilet and eat apples and walk around with my ears unmuffled in an industrial strength fashion. Because what happens is I want to do those things more and more and more. Like right now, I want to chomp down 87 apples in a row, pee consequences be damned. I want to jump around with my ears unmuffled shrieking, “My ears are naked! My ears are naaaked!” You know, stuff like that.
But, no. The Little Ukrainian Fellow rules my psyche with an iron fist.
After my shameful moment in the shower, I crept downstairs to survey the smithereens of our condo. It smells like wet dirt down there and bathroom dust shimmers in the slits of sun through the curtains, which is almost dreamy if you don’t think about it. Half of the downstairs bathroom is now a giant gaping hole wherein I imagine I will plant tomatoes and green beans once the horror has passed.
I am trying not to laugh at your descriptions of the jack-hammer associated horror. I mean, it’s your actual factual house and you’re having a terrible time, and I’m sorry. I’m praying for you guys, too. But I understand and share the compulsion to turn one’s personal difficulties into comedy bits, so I am also laughing, because you are veery gut at der writtink funny.
Stupidly, I feel like I owe it to your good writing to laugh in appreication, and to your trouble by feeling badly for you, and so my brain has cramped up trying to handle it all.
PS – we are having a crowd over tomorrow and I plan to make available your genuine coffee product. I will pass on the group reviews! Thanks again. 🙂
NF — I know. I tend to straddle the chasm here. But thanks for getting it. The last couple days have been completely ridiculous, so you can’t NOT laugh at the insanity. That’s just how I am. I’m glad you laughed — thank you! The gallows humor flying around this house as we crawl over the rubble has been insane.
Awesome. You simply must have little Ukranian fellows come around more often.
“Can I see your tub?” sounds like a really bad pickup line.
I am so sorry things are upside-down for you right now, T! This too shall pass. . . and TLUF will take his jackhammer on the road. Hang in there!