krisis

On the upside of all of this is that i am wearing yummy new dark blue jeans that fit me very well. I hate jeans that fall off of your ass, and i especially hate companies who include the “falling ass” effect in their inseam and waist measurements (ie: 31×31 actually being 36×38 to accomodate the ‘ass’ crowd). Also, i refuse to buy jeans in any gap-related outlet, because they suck. Also, tapered legs are for sissies. Furthermore, Unionbay doesn’t seem to make plain old jeans anymore, just rave-y clothes (what is that all about, anyhow). So, i ventured into :gasp: the non-UB section and emerged with two nicely fit pairs of jeans.

Oohhhh, but wait until i get around to telling you about the unionbay stuff i bought…

Walmart (or, for that matter, any store with a name ending in ‘mart) is one of my least favourite places on earth. Sure, you can buy plenty of things plenty cheap there, but the average IQ of customers in the store has more to do with my shoe size than anything else.

Since i hate the place so much, we were obliged to spend an hour there. To Walmart’s credit i found such wonderful things as cheap dishes, more giant tupperware bins (i think i’m developing a fetish), and a towel hook for the door. I was typically miserable the whole time we spent there, except for while walking out to the car. I plan to be miserable until Saturday, when i move into the apartment for real. Sadly, there will be no way for you to bask in the satisfied glow i’ll be giving off until next friday when my phone service gets turned on, at which point i’m quite sure i’ll be miserable again. After all, it doesn’t take much.

My mother and i stood befuddled as we stared at the bath-window.

“We can’t hang blinds, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Couldn’t we just hang a shower curtain? You know, from that rod there.”

“I suppose, but it couldn’t be a sheer one. It’d have to be opaque.”

“Yes, i was thinking that.”

“We ought to go to Walmart and look for one.”

“::shudder::

The bathroom in our new apartment is rather small, with a sink and a toilet directly to your left when you enter, and a radiator on the right close enough to warm your knees while you’re on the toilet. The bathtub is a part of both side walls and the back wall of the bathroom, which happens to be the front wall of the apartment building. And, for some inexplicable reason, there is a window looking in over my tub.

I hadn’t been to this apartment too many times, but had seen identical ones in the same building, so this morning when we arrived i had already described the general setup but was having trouble recalling where the phone jacks and closets were. However, i remembered an abundance of windows. Many, many windows. Seven in all, as it turned out, contained in two rooms.

And, of course, one in the bathtub.

The middle window of the third floor of 3604 Spring Garden street is done up in sea-life. Giant, vivid fish slide in and out of plankton and seaweed against a deep blue backdrop.

The scene is rendered in the medium known as “vinyl shower curtain.”

(This is a story, told backwards.)

(If you read down from the top of the page this is the end).