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Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Hair That Haunts.


Remember when I lived here? Kicked out of student housing—a welcome relief, I assure you—because I was no longer a student, this was my temporary housing for four months until we married. After we got engaged in California and then I moved to this place in Idaho while Danny stayed in California for seven weeks. What a nightmare. And this was the place I found; excited, I thought it would be a dream.


It looks cute on the outside, a little porch, a little grass. No. It was filthy inside. The girls that lived there (menos Siobhan [SHA-VON, it's Irish] who was only there the last little bit) were a nightmare. Rowdy, unintelligent deadbeats who were, gasp, dirty. This unsuspecting little townhome was covered in grime, crumbs and hair. Hair, hair, everywhere! Long, black, kinky clumps and strands of it. Floating along the kitchen floor, worming down the bathroom drain, sneaking under the crack of my bedroom door.
That first night I stood in the gray, scum-covered shower and began to cry as the water rose to my shins. How do you avoid such hair? You don’t. You have to eradicate it. And so I tried. The following night I donned yellow rubber gloves and scoured every inch of the bathroom on hand and knee.
“The bathroom was clean. What? Are we not clean enough for you?!” menaced the owner of the long, black, kinky strands.
A few similar incidents resulted in my installing a new lock on my bedroom door for when I wasn’t at home. The beginning of a beautiful relationship.
I think people thought I was exaggerating when I described that place and how it made me feel. Then Ze Bobbie came to visit. She is fairly normal. Not an OCD clean freak, like yours truly, but she concurred: this place was sick. It made you feel like the walls inched closer every time you turned your back. Breathing was nearly impossible in the clutter and grime. It was summer—isn’t everyone supposed to feel happy in the summer, and not claustrophobic?
Anyway, anyway, long story short, I was thrilled to move out of there and into my little love nest with Danny.
El Fin.

3 comments:

Bobbiejane said...

Fairly normal? I am really really normal!

Dani said...

nasty. isn't going from roommates/lame apartments to married/your own apartments so nice?!

Jane said...

Dani- It is! I love it!
Bob- Yes, fairly normal. That was a high score too. Take what you can get.