Random snippets

1. Tonight MC was in my room and she did a vanishing act. I thought she had run outside because I couldn’t find her anywhere, though I did think it was strange that she’d slipped by me so quickly through the door. I discovered her, three hours later, when I violently wrenched the bedsheets off the bed and dislodged her, a screeching “Yiaooooow” escaping her lips, nearly sending her flying from her napping place in amongst the parts of the blankets that touched the floor. She was not happy, didn’t see the joke, and especially didn’t like it when I laughed aloud.

2. Last night MC was very cuddly and she jumped on me and lay on my chest with her head wedged below my jaw, on my neck... purring so loudly. It was so cute that I took a photo with my phone and sent to Dad and Janek with the caption “There are few things quite so sublime as being in the company of an amorous cat.”

Dad’s reply read: “Especially when they purr... I won't even go near the pussy jokes :-)”

To which I replied: “Oh you wouldn't be the first. I think the most memorable was Paul... ‘Cock one night, pussy the next.’ But you probably don't want to hear that lol”

To which he replied: “No I just stick with ‘happiness is a warm pussy’ :-) ... Whatever gets you through the night ... x”

I love my Dad.

3. I was lying in bed relaxing when I heard a clattering sound coming from outside the bedroom door. It sounded like someone was beating the screen security door repeatedly with a mallet. I opened the door and discovered MC, attached to the door, halfway up, by her claws, with a sheepish look on her face. Regaining her dignity, she swiftly leapt down and entered the room gracefully when I opened the door.

4. I bought MC some Coles brand catfood a week ago. She was not impressed. She gave me that “you HAVE to be kidding, right?” look that only cats can pull off. So I bought a new pack of Whiskas on Tuesday and was amused by the fact that the packaging has “FOOD FOR CATS” on the top of it. Anyone who can pick up a box of Whiskas and think it is for human consumption is one of two things: a) someone in the market for cat flavoured biscuits (why else would the packaging have a cat on it?) or b) a moron. How can anyone mistake this for human food? Just look at the pack if you don’t believe me.


5. I noticed with equal parts of amusement and indignation the following diagram on my deodorant bottle.
The indignation was at the pervasive heteronormativity of our society. Gay men use this product too! The amusement was at the way I actually read the equation before I figured out what it is supposed to mean: LYNX + MAN = WOMAN, so if you use this deodorant, it will change you into a woman. Not what straight jock boys want to think about, I’m sure.

6. And finally, something a little bit soppy... While talking to a friend, she remarked on what a good couple Janek and I make. “When I saw you two together on Friday night and you were holding hands, you looked so cute that I just wanted to step in front of you and take a photograph!” she said. Then she added, “But that would have been a little intrusive”.

The exerciser

Since The Guyanan moved out a fortnight ago, we now have a new housemate living upstairs. He came last week with the Housing Manager to have a look around. He seemed nice enough; certainly if he had any faults they wouldn’t come close to the high standards set by The Space Cadet.

The night he came to have a look around I was speaking to The Optimist in the kitchen and mentioned that we’d had someone come by. “What’s he like?” The Optimist asked me. “He seems nice enough, I guess. I dunno… he’s not like The Space Cadet, that’s for sure. And he’s cute!” I said. “Well that’s the first thing I look for in a new housemate,” he said, laughing, “you know, in case there’s a nuclear apocalypse or something.” At this point I told him not to worry, I’d fuck him if there was an apocalypse. He seemed happy with that.

So last week The Exerciser moved in. He is so named because he’s studying exercise science and nursing and is one of those health nuts that goes for a run every day. For once, the first impression appears not to do him enough justice; he’s the perfect housemate. He has brought in a shitload of dishes, cutlery and miscellaneous cooking paraphernalia; he cooks actual meals, not just black-and-gold baked beans with black-and-gold two minute noodles; he washes his own dishes immediately after each meal, unlike The Optimist and I, who leave it and do a big clean up at the end of the day; and he actually makes conversation with us when we’re in the kitchen together, unlike The Space Cadet who, at best, would gruffly acknowledge our presence before fleeing the scene in a cloud of smoke.

The leak

I was lying in bed watching TV with Janek this morning when I noticed a trickling sound outside. I’m used to the sound of running water, both the outtake pipes for the two upstairs bathrooms run down the external wall outside my window, but this was different: this sounded like water was falling from the ceiling and landing on the pavers outside.

On closer inspection, I discovered this was exactly what was happening. Water was dripping, quite quickly, from the ceiling onto the pavers outside my door. (My bedroom is an external room really, there is a small walkway that has a door on either side, one to my room and one to the main house). I went inside the main house and was greeted with the sight of water cascading down the stairs (well ok, that’s a slight exaggeration, it was trickling, but it was still just as shocking). I went into The Accountant’s bathroom (which is directly above the area outside the doors) and found a pool of water around the base of the sink. This seems to be the source of the leak, and the cause of the newly established river system that courses its way from The Accountant’s bathroom to the hallway and down the stairs.

I’ve called Housing and they’re apparently sending a plumber to have a look. In the mean time I’ve turned off the mains water. Wonder how long it’ll take them?

The bathroom

Over the weekend I cleaned the bathroom, formerly the sole domain of The Space Cadet, that is between the two rooms. With The Space Cadet gone, the bathroom is all mine!

When I ventured in there the day he left I was disgusted by the state of it. There was mould and mildew growing on the grout in the shower, soap scum on the floor of the shower, and a pervasive smell of smoke throughout the room. Upon opening the wardrobe that lives in there, a thick smell of weed smoke enveloped me, as if he had been smoking inside the wardrobe. The floor was putrid too, as were the surfaces. The toilet, however, was practically sparkling in comparison.

I started with the odour and, after a rather heavy-handed application of Glen 20 (a fairly heady disinfectant), the room smelt much more neutral despite its obvious filthy state.

The shower was next. I bought a product that advertised itself as a “professional mould destroyer” and it did not disappoint. The mould came away surprisingly easily so the shower was fairly easy to clean too, the only downside being that I had to practically scrub every inch of grout with a scourer or toothbrush, while trying not to breathe in the fumes too much. I cleaned a section of tiled wall next to the shower, then the surfaces, and finally the toilet for good measure.

While cleaning the walls, I rinsed using a bucket that caused water to run over the floor (the best I could do in the floor-cleaning stakes since I have no mop) and then into the floor drain in a great tidal wave. All was going fine until I noticed two things: the water pooled around the drain wasn’t receding, and that it was actually growing deeper the more I used the sink. I set up a dam, made of towels, and then I ran the sink and found, to my horror, that the water ran out of the floor drain at about the same rate as it went into the sink’s drain. I ran the shower and found the same thing. With images of shit floating around my floor I gingerly flushed the toilet and was quite relieved to find that the blockage must be above the toilet junction because the water on the floor didn’t move. Thank goodness for small miracles.

I went to Coles and bought a plunger. It cost $2.30; the trip there and back cost $1.80. When I returned I found the water had dissipated. I ran the sink briefly and got the water level back up to where it was before so that I could use the plunger and plunge the blockage away. After about five minutes the blockage was gone.

For my protection, I wore gloves, sunnies and a hankie tied around my face while cleaning to prevent any burns from what turned out to be a concoction of mostly bleach, detergent and water, however after I took a smoko in the middle I neglected to replace these items and proceeded to get bleach-burn on my hands, feet and face.

They really hurt after a while as the skin was very dry and brittle, so I rubbed some emu oil into them to try to relieve the pain and moisturise them. That didn’t work for long so I used a little bit of massage oil. That didn’t work either, and I was just about to resort to using lube as a moisturiser, when I thought I may as well check The Optimist’s bathroom and see if he had anything more suitable. I was slightly amused to discover that my (straight) housemate had hand cream under his sink, so I pinched some of that and now have lovely moisturised hands that no longer hurt when I type.

So alls well that ends well, as the saying goes, and I now have a clean bathroom that I can use and actually feel clean!

The Sister has landed

The other week, when I received confirmation from Housing that The Space Cadet was moving, I sent an elated text message to some family and friends. A few minutes later I received a phone call from Sister. “I bet I can trump your news,” she said. I told her I doubted that very much indeed. She laughed and said “I’m moving back to Sydney.”

Janek was watching me as this exchange took place and tells me that my face went white and dropped. “What? Why? When?” I asked, each word in quick succession, trying not to give away my shock and slight disappointment. “It’s a long story...”

I didn’t get too much information out of her on that initial phone call, just that she is no longer going to be living in Melbourne with her friends, that she’d be returning home to Mum & Dad’s, and that she’d leaving in two days’ time. I asked her what would happen to her uni studies and she told me she had withdrawn already and as it was before a certain date there was no academic or financial penalty. The next day she called me and asked if I’d book her flight for her; the day after that she was on the plane and back in sunny Sydney.

I was in shock for the first day or two. I had got used to having her in another city, which was perfect because it meant we could talk on the phone, thick as thieves, avoid any uncomfortably subjects (like me being gay, or the appearance of Janek) and not kill each other. Like many complicated relationships, Sister and I get on best when we’re apart. I think it’s also partly got to do with the fact that the more physical distance there is between us, the more I can pretend that there is some kind of emotional distance too, to protect myself from things like The Talk and The Letter Incident, even if at the back of my mind I know that she will wield the power over me that she does whether she lives in the same house/city/state as me or not. I just feel that she’s upset the status quo now; I just hope things don’t get worse in an already fragile situation.

The momentary return of the Space Cadet

And here we were, The Optimist and I, thinking it was over. Except for the fact that his fridge, TV and VCR were in the lounge room, he was out of our lives. The funny thing is I thought that we’d be stuck with these appliances for months before he got off his arse to pick them up but he proved me wrong, for once, and came for them yesterday night.

I got home at 930 last night and noticed, as I walked up the back pathway to the kitchen, that The Space Cadet was in there. Still outside, I called out his name, and he jumped and said “Shit, you scared me, man, I thought you were security.” Guilty conscience perhaps? I went inside and, to my great surprise, found that not one piece of free-standing furniture in the lounge/dining room or kitchen was in the right place, except the fridges, but then I suspect that was only due to their weight and not because of any lack of motivation or desire on his part. All the furniture was in the lounge room, squashed in as if it had just been moved in and the movers were having a smoking break. He told me he’s been full of nervous energy so he moved them. If ever there was a smile-and-nod moment, this was it. In an effort to move things along, I asked how he liked the new place. He told me it was shitty but he only wants to stay there a month. I thought, some would say uncharitably, that that’s probably only as long as he’d last anyway if he gets high and wasted all the time, steals food and doesn’t pay his rent, but I kept my mouth shut.

At this point he asked me if I had twenty dollars and told me that if I could lend him some cash he could afford a taxi over to Darlinghurst, and could pay me back at 12.20 am when his Centrelink payment went through. I didn’t. As I was getting increasingly uncomfortable in the room with him, I bid him goodnight and told him I had homework to do (which was true). As I was walking out the door he said the most bizarre thing to me: “Hey man, I’m sorry if I caused you any inconvenience while I was living here.” I was floored. “Forget it,” I stammered. I left the room and he called out to me “Hey man, do you reckon I could have a cigarette?”

At 1030 there was a knock at my door. I sighed. Then I remembered that soon The Space Cadet would no longer be bumming cigarettes, and I smiled. “Yeh?” I called out to the door. “Hey, it’s The Optimist.” I opened the door and he asked me if I knew where The Space Cadet had got to. I said no, The Optimist said “fuck” quite loudly, and then walked into the kitchen. I followed and asked what was up. “The bastard’s taken a six-pack of my beer!”

After a brief sweep of the house, and not finding him anywhere, it occurred to me where he would be. “You know he’s mentioned before that the house two doors down is empty... he’s probably there, since he can’t get wasted in his own room.” “Ok, let’s go,” The Optimist said, leading the way. Sure enough, we found him. Sure enough, he was wasted. Sure enough, he had one of The Optimist’s beers in his hand.

“Are you going to save any of that for me?” The Optimist asked. The Space Cadet said they’re all gone. I quietly marvelled at the speed of this man’s drinking, considering it had all had to have been drunk in less than an hour. The Optimist was pissed: “You know this shit isn’t cool. I can’t afford to subsidise your drinking.” “It’s not like you haven’t fucked me over in other ways!” The Space Cadet slurred at us. At the moment he said that, someone revved a car engine in the alley, so The Optimist didn’t hear him. “What?” The Space Cadet repeated himself as the engine revved again. “Huh?” Now The Space Cadet was getting (more) pissed: “Do you really want me to repeat it again?” he asked, “You’ll understand when you’re thirty.” “What the fuck!?” The Optimist spat. “When I’m thirty I won’t be stealing other people’s beer!” I thought it best to get the fuck out of The Space Cadet’s general vicinity at this point, so I grabbed The Optimist’s arm and told him to drop it.

We went his girlfriend’s place, a few houses down from ours, and he called security and told them that an ex-resident was getting drunk and being a pain on the property. I went back home, through the front door, and didn’t hear anything more. I called The Optimist at midnight and he said that all was quiet at The Girl Down The Road’s place too, and that he had seen the security bloke and explained the situation to him a little more lucidly than he had done while on the phone (TGDTR and I were listening to the phone call he made with amused smiles on our faces because he was so pissed off and consequently speaking a mile a minute and making very little sense) The security bloke told him he’d take care of it and if there were any more issues to call the emergency number. The next morning, the TV and VCR were gone, but the fridge, bean bag and blankets remained. While eating breakfast I bumped into The Optimist and we both expressed our ardent desire that it would rain today. We were disappointed, sadly, but some time between 930 and 1030 tonight the shit disappeared.

So I may just be Space Cadet free now. Touch wood.