Poor S spent two to three days, braving cleaning agent fumes and scrubbing the area by hand. When I went down to do laundry, I was in constant fear of finding her in a heap on the floor. Her hard work paid off. It's only a matter of time before some dingbat of a tenant spills coffee on it, has his dog pee on the floor, or drops a bottle of booze on S's hard work, but for now it's pretty spiffy down there!
If only management would make my neighbor stop keeping her stroller full of recycling depot bound goods in our hallway! The sight of the thing makes my blood boil and I often fantasize about throwing it down the stair well. Then I find myself feeling guilty for my evil thoughts. For some reason, having the fire exit blocked by rubbish, really gets me angry. I have no idea why.
Speaking of things that make me mad, my five year old, Lanes' school, is really something else. True, getting on my nerves is not hard to do. In fact, if you type directions on how to land on my nerves, MapQuest could give it to you in one easy step.
It's pretty cold, and almost always miserably wet every morning when it's time to drop Lanes at school. The school policy is for the children to line up outside the class, and by outside, I mean by the exterior of the building, until it's time for them to go into the classroom. I guess clean hallways trumps pneumonia.
Now they want us to find 'rain gear' so kids can play outside during recess even if it's wet. To make it worse, Lanes came home with her socks, shoes, and trousers soaked. Her friend’s grandma told me that she came during recess and it was raining and she tried to get Lanes to go in and get her rain boots.
Of course, my bundle of joy, her eyes firmly on the prize, also known as the swing, refused to follow instructions. Surely, the teacher must make sure all the kids are clad in this ‘rain gear’ they so casually ask for.
The principal of the school was doing his routine rounds and so the grandma told him that she thinks it’s not appropriate for small children to be running around in that weather. He explained that it was school policy—something about not having any sunshine and kids needing fresh air. He further explained, from the shelter of his umbrella that the kids were not privy to, that kids get sick from germs, not getting wet.
Several hours later, when I brought home Lanes and her pruned up wrinkly feet, I was completely on the grandma’s side! I was muttering under my breath and Lanes decided to freak out thinking her toes were going to fall off. It was a long afternoon. My sensible spouse, P, had no comment on the matter. Not very helpful!
Any old how, onto happier shameless self promotion news, I was featured in the ‘Sunday Times’ Plus section back in the motherland. Anne Abayasekera very kindly interviewed me from all the way over there and put in some good words for me. The link is: http://www.sundaytimes.lk/121125/plus/from-baby-blog-to-first-novel-21524.html
I continue to do not so bright things like go for regular checkups. I was sent for a routine blood test. I thought I’d pull a P, and be methodical in my ways. Instead of straggling into the lab straight out of bed, only to wait in line for my turn, I thought I’d book it online and secure an appointment.
As usual, I was foiled by my good intentions, because the appointment I got was at 10am. Since our alarm clock, known as Lanes, goes off by 8am the latest, I was starving and delirious by the time P deposited me at the lab.
I was asked trick questions like my age and how to spell my name. I could tell you the year I was born, but I have to think awhile before actually saying how old I am. Math was never my strong suit. As for my name, I think Welsh street signs have less consonants shoved together in a row.
With that I must sign off. I am dilly dallying because I’m petrified to check the results online. Oh yes, and that pesky job search thing. Have to do that. More musings from BC next week…
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