I’ve been meaning to post about their dreamy wedding, held at the groom’s dreamy family summer home, which is basically Kellerman’s from Dirty Dancing + sailing and lots of glorious gorgeous ocean.

(this was the house I stayed at with a group of friends. basically my dream house, so i think i’ll buy it once i get my next paycheck)

Their first look. If I were a happy/emotional crier, I would have cried tears of happiness and/or emotion.

Oh so beautiful!

Plus the reception featured four of my favorite things: St. Germain, pumpkin ravioli, pumpkin whoopie pies, and a ROCKING DJ.

Thumbs up!!

As Best Woman, I gave a speech during the rehearsal dinner. In poem-form. At least three people, including the bride’s college-aged brother, came up to me afterwards and asked if I was an English teacher. What gave it away???? The tweed vest, the glasses? The loafers? The bun? Because I rhymed zest with behest? I’ll share it here so the bride can cherish it forever in an online format.

There once once a boy who didn’t wear shoes,

Who listened to Phish and would rather sail than cruise.

And there was a girl he met one winter day

Comfy in loafers, fond of Kohs and Tar-jay

They dated and fell in love topsy turvey

Faster than he could say “Hoist the scurvy”

“Jamba the Juice! Boom the poop deck leak!!”

And other such things in his nautical speak.

The girl was impressed! This fellow’s legit

And I think I even like Phish a little bit

Together they toiled and worked on their careers

He fixed the young ‘uns and she granted them college years

Life isn’t easy, for real, no fooling

And a Master’s from [his university] is nothing but grueling

A career change for her opened a new door

(Though she’s sad not to work with a [mylastname] anymore)

A fact everyone knows and believes quite true

Is that these two can accomplish anything they choose to

Together they laugh and seek adventure with zest

While saving the youth on the nation’s behest

So raise your glass, your wine, champagne or beers

To offer these two our deepest of cheers

We’re so happy you chose each other to cherish

And if I could give you one thing it would be this wish:

That forever you’re happy, forever you feel joy

Forever you find adventure to which you say Ahoy!

I love you both and am happy to say

Congratulations and cheers for your wedding day!

—-

Here all night, folks. Wocka wocka.

Also, the bride and I stayed up late a couple nights before the wedding, crafting.

These flags were attached to an actual sailboat which was then filled with ice and bottled beer during the cocktail hour. ..Right??? Awesome. Love you guys!!

Oh what’s that picture? Nothing major. Just voted BEST FRIENDS in the class superlatives section of the yearbook, class of 1998. By a jury of our peers. That’s all. No biggie.

Welcome fall semester! I’ve already gotten well acquainted with you via the Requisite Back-to-School Cold and the Requisite Back-to-School-Outfit Photos, which I’ve been remiss in posting.

Still don’t know how to operate that ol’ flash, but someone learned where the self-timer button on her camera is.

Don’t act like you’re not impressed.

The first year of grad school was the worst. For a moment this morning, riding the train, my body/mind must have flashbacked to two years ago when my anxiety was off the charts and I wanted to run away from school and join a band of cheesemongers. I had a visceral reaction to the whole train-routine…standing at the commuter rail stop with my ipod and the Metro; riding backwards out of the suburbs and into the city; rushing through the station to grab the T; squeezing into a seat on a train that gets less and less crowded with each stop, until I arrive at my school. Panic seized me—with no reason—until I remember that it was now, things were better, I liked school, and I’d get my car back soon.

Phew. Also, third year of school. I’m a junior of sorts.

My mechanic was running behind so I had to kill some time before getting my car. I sat at an outdoor cafe under an umbrella because it was raining. I put my blazer on my laptop to shield it from any wayward drops and worked until my battery died. I popped the collar because I thought, well, why not?

Tomorrow is the first day of classes (today was a faculty meeting) and I’m going to paint my nails and try to go to sleep before 11 p.m. Gotta pick out my first day of school outfit!

It was a slow weekend, carless and all. I read a couple books and took a lazy Saturday night stroll with DP for some ice cream. Last night at 9 we walked the 5-mile loop to and around the town lake, we were so stir-crazy. Oh yeah, his car died too. He’s able to get it started and go to work on Saturday but it sputters and shakes and dies at the most inopportune moments.

But on Sunday we made pancakes, which makes everything a bit brighter. I use the basic recipe from Joy of Cooking and tweak it: more whole wheat flour than white, some pumpkin pie spices, and about half a cup of flax seed. I meant to shake in about a tablespoon or two but the bag upended.. Plus frozen blueberries. Pancakes for hermits!

I’m ready to shake off the summer. The humidity is getting to me and I’m eager for routine. I’m eager for the markings of a comfortable fall: new Sharpie pens, first day of school clothes, brand new schedule to adjust to, steel cut oats, blazers and jeans, pomegranates.

Today I’m readying myself for the week ahead. Plenty of reading to do, and last-minute syllabus tweaking. Classes begin this week and this weekend is BFF’s WEDDING WEEKEND. I’m ready to jump on into it. Bring it on, fall!

Sick of my wistful jean pajama reminisces, my BFF Jill gave me a pair of hers that didn’t fit right. After some basic YouTube research, I gathered some implements to distress them. Who knew it was so easy!! To distress/rip jeans, you can use any of the following:

• microplane
• hand-held cheese grater
• nail file
• pumice stone
• sandpaper

I owned everything above besides the sandpaper and I found the microplane did the best job. I zested those jeans like they were an orange until the white threaded part showed through. I scuffed them up near the pockets and on the mid-thigh area. Not bad for a fifteen-minute hack job, and I think they’ll look even better after I wash them.

Believe: I’m going to wear the hell out of them throughout the fall and never never lose sight of them again.

Endnote: Slouchy cropped boyfriend jeans are exactly the kind of pant that small-stature women are advised NOT to wear. I say eff that. I’ve been thinking a lot about style lately, and the rules we follow and ideals we strive for (or, rather, the ideals women’s magazines/media dictate). I find the notion that one must always dress to enhance their length/tallness problematic. I suppose evolutionarily speaking, taller humans survived and thrived over their shorter stature counterparts, but that hardly seems relevant today. Once again I’m reminded that aesthetic & fashion, like everything else, is largely constructed and—I’d argue—should be critically reexamined.

Hence: slouchy boyfriend cropped jeans with flats on this 4’11 frame.

My car is in the shop yet again and today I’m housebound, reading, putting together my fall class assignments,  drinking too much coffee, and contemplating homemade donuts. I’m back on the Pomodoro Technique and today my goal is 10 tomatoes.

August was a busy month. Finished teaching a fantastic summer course and then—lucky me—traveled to two back-to-back bachelor/bachelorette parties: Vegas and NYC. Both amazing. Scenic photos only for the blog.

And then I realized August was ending and September was coming way, way too quickly. I’m in a blog rut. With my second qualifying exam at the end of September, I’m pouring all my energy into 18th century transatlantic narrative, novel, and theory. And I’m spent. And I’ve fallen hard for stupid Pinterest, which isn’t stupid at all because I love it and have approximately 97 boards.

This is my internal blonologue:

-I should blog. Blogging is good. Blogging is fun.

-Ughh, I have nothing to blog about

-I should blog about my garden

-Ughh I don’t feel like taking pictures of it

<Reads style blogs>

-I could blog about style. I should blog about style.

-Ughhh I don’t feel like taking pictures/don’t know how to use the self-timer on my camera

-I should blog about academic things on my new professional blog

-Ughhhh. Feel dumb. Nothing to say. Bad grad student. Uh. Wah. Uh.

And then I lose control of the English language and can only communicate via the baby sign for “more” that my 1 year old nephew taught me.

Two things I get from all this which are only mildly contradictory:

1. I am giving up the “shoulds”; the “shoulds” are not my friends. The shoulds are a bunch of jerks.

2. As I always tell my students, writing begets writing. To get out of my blog slump blump I’ll write a little something every weekday this month. Even if it’s only a link to my 800 Pinterest pins.

Happy September. Did I mention Hannah Montana was in Vegas too? She roomed with us.

Although this blog is utterly tame/boring, I prefer to keep it semi-anonymous. Meaning, I’d like to keep the two blogs separate and not have them deliberately linked to one another. The new blog can be found at my full first name my last name dot wordpress dot com. Sneaky!!

It’s a bit scary taking that professional leap forward into the blogosphere. Already I have one lovely comment from an academic whose work I admire. I gotta admit, when I saw I had a comment I immediately thought, “Oh no! Someone is already telling me how wrong I am!!” But that wasn’t the case and so I will chill. A little.

I’m going to continue blogging here as well, about my iced coffees and my books, because I like it and I think it’s good for me.

I put on my Professional Unclutterer hat and set about piling his books in the middle of the room. I cleared off my desk and affixed little post-it notes on the wall to designate the destination of each errant piece of paper: “Keep”, “Recycle”, “File”, “Bring to Work,” etc.

Here’s a picture of the “during” :

After: his side, sorted and decluttered.

Ahh, it makes me breathe so much easier. And it helps with his ADD issues.

His new paperwork system: “File,” “Out,” and “In.” I set this up in early June and it’s still working for him.

The photos don’t show it, but I also cleaned OUT the closet and boy was there a lot of junk in there. Why do we own so many cords and where do they all go to?? I put them in a box in my file cabinet labeled “Cords and stuff I don’t know what to do with” and I’ll toss them if they’re not used in six months. Cords, you’re on watch.

Lord knows I can’t post enough pictures of my office. When my friend visited from the Galapagos she was like, “Oh! Your office! I’ve seen so many pictures on your blog.” Which means I need to find something new to write about.

Too bad! Office for the win!

Then one student asked me if I had a personal blog. I can’t lie, so I admitted I did, but that I kept it private and semi-anonymous. I warned them not to go looking for it, because they wouldn’t find it. I hope no one interprets that as a challenge. I said if they found it I’d have to shut it down (or at least make it password-protected) and then I’d be sad.

I also mentioned that I really only write about nerdlife, like making granola bars and reading a book and drinking iced coffee, so I’m pretty sure this blog is already college-proof. Nothing to see here, folks.

The recipe is very versatile which is perfect because I like to keep things fresh. Cook by the seat of my pants. Change it up, I’m crazy like that. I basically threw everything delicious into a bowl, including:

• about half a can of pumpkin (both to stick them together and to replace most of the oil for a healthier bar)
• dried unsweetened coconut
• dried figs
• dried berry medley from TJs (blueberries, cherries, strawberries I think)
• almonds
• sunflower seeds
• chia seeds
• flax seeds
• almond butter
• a mix of oat flour and wheat germ

Basically they are stupid delicious and the best on-the-run summer breakfast.

They’ll be awesome in the fall with some pumpkin pie spices to amp up the pumpkin flavor, maybe some choco chips. Whoa I am getting ahead of myself here.

1. Heidi braids

I do Heidi braids a LOT. Like, a LOT. Usually I braid them up while my hair is still wet, and use hair spray to shellac ‘em into place. Bonus: waves the next day!

2. Big and scarfed. I’ve rediscovered hair scarves in a big way this summer. Works with a bun, a braid, a ponytail. My favorite way to tie them in to twist the ends together at the top of your head, like so: Sorry for the smirky picture. Who am I so mad at??

3. Shirley Temple curls. This is the hottest tip of the year and I read it in like, a Redbook magazine at the allergist’s office. I cut up an old t-shirt into strips. Free curlers. When my hair is wet, I simply wind them up, tie the ends together, and go to sleep feeling like a saucy lady from the 30s. I wake up to big bouncy curls that gradually settle down somewhere along my drive in to class.

4. Shower bun. Sometimes I shampoo and condition my hair, and throw it up into a bun on the top of my head while I’m still in the shower. Then when I get out of the shower, my hair is already done. Worst. But also best. I love summer.

In the winter we scrimp and save and put on layer after layer in an effort to save on heating costs. But in the summer…oh, the AC blasts. As cold as it gets. Cold enough to use my quilt. The AC in our bedroom—it’s kinda an old unit—makes these humming, screeching, protesting noises throughout the night, noises that wake DP up, but I sleep on through, because this hot hot summer has me tired and in bed by 10.

Most weekends have been spent packing a quick overnight bag, waiting for DP to get home from work, and driving an hour or two to somewhere fun. There was our fun Maine camping trip. There were two trips to Narragansett in a row, once for our anniversary and another for a family reunion. Then down to the south coast visiting my parents and boating on our friends’ big fancy boat for the 4th. Last weekend we went (again) to Gansett with a group of friends. We ate everything Rhode Island has to offer (and it really has a lot to offer) and brought home half the beach in our totes. I’m getting very used to getting home at 9 or 10 pm on Sunday, throwing myself in bed, and getting up earlyish to shower the sand off, fill up my iced coffee cup, and hop into traffic to teach for an hour and half.

But this weekend was slow and lazy: ice cream, Harry Potter, farmers’ market and really that’s about it.

Yes, big ups for this summer. Big ups for

• weekday beach trips
• Trader Joe’s sunscreen
• coffee ice cubes (they even have their own designated ice cube trays in my freezer)
• jumping off a diving board into the ocean, even though it took me 100 tries to work up the nerve
• boat shoes (children’s, boys’ actually, size 2 don’t judge)
• summer teaching
• kale from my garden, and kale smoothies and kale salads
• fresh raspberry ice cream

Having never camped before, and being allergic to everything, and generally preferring the indoors and climate control, there are few people in this world for whom I’d be willing to sleep outdoors. But my college roomie is certainly one of them and I was so excited to celebrate her gorgeous wedding at a farm/campground, tent and all.

This wedding was beyond cool. Like, way too cool for me. There was a bluegrass band that played all night, personalized pint glasses, cupcakes and pies, locally grown food (beans cooked in a hole in the ground!), and even a little beer pong. We danced it up! Do you know how to dance to bluegrass? We didn’t (and one of us—hint, not me—is a professional dancer with her own dance company) but we stomped and twirled and jumped up and down a lot, and that seemed about right.

I slept surprisingly well. (No, not surprising; I am a good sleeper.) Maybe camping is a good color on me? Maybe I’ll try it again someday? As long as there are bathrooms and morning coffee and cake? In the morning Dave surprised me with a little birthday cake. Then we gathered for coffee and bagels and I couldn’t resist a group shot of the aftermath. Hello, camping! And 31! And many congrats to the happy newlyweds!

(This is my “Birthday at a Rest Stop Somewhere in Maine, with Starbucks” portrait.)

Tell me, what is better than a beach cottage rental with all the fixins—wood paneling, beachy tchotchkes, seaside kitsch? Nothing. Nothing is better than that.

 We took rainy, windy walks. Hit up our favorite burger joint. Saw a matinee of The Hangover 2. Spent $10 in a penny candy store. An awesome weekend.

A cinnamon bun is now officially an anniversary tradition. I remember eating a big ol’ cinnamon bun on the morning of our wedding. And forget fancy dinners or expensive gifts. A latte delivered bedside = perfection.

After a few episodes, after DP had fallen asleep, a pop-up from Hulu appeared that said something like, “You’ve been watching for over 3 hours. Do you need a break?”

Look Hulu, I have pizza crumbs in bed and it’s 8 p.m. You think I need your judgement too??

On my 11th birthday my cousin—who was barely 20 at the time—came to our house with a surprise present. A kitten! Rascal was a surprise to everyone, including my parents (and I can’t wait to gift my cousin’s baby daughter with a surprise bunny/pony/pot-bellied pig in 10 years’ time!).

Rascal enjoyed an unprecedented TWENTY years of kitty fun. I think that’s like 140 in human years. Saturday was his time to go to kitty heaven and despite his full, happy life, saying goodbye was incredibly difficult and more than a little traumatizing.

Razzy, you were the best cat! You were generally grumpy, unfriendly, and chased us around the house in your heyday. I’m pretty sure you were the neighborhood cat bully, and you thrived despite living near a busy street, other cats, dogs, and occasional coyotes. There’s a Rascal-shaped hole in our hearts and in my parents’ home. We miss you already.

Dave and I neeever/rarely have people over. Why is this? Is it because until recently our bathroom ceiling was caving in?? Is it cat allergies?? Why doesn’t anyone like us?! Is it because they all have jobs and things to do? Is it because I’ve become a book hermit?? Is it because we don’t invite people over?? I am baffled!

Anyway, happy to have four friends and a baby coming over, I charmingly referred to them as “company.” Like, “Dave! The company will be here at 10!” or “I’m going food shopping for the company!” “No, I won’t be at the gym; I have company over.” And then I’d laugh and no one else would, or maybe that’s just because I’m home alone all day being a book hermit and talking to myself.

My college friends are very dear to me. We can sit around all day talking and not realize that 5 hours have passed. And that’s what we did. We ate homemade ice cream and brownies and they laughed at me for making homemade ice cream and brownies because in college I didn’t know how to use a toaster oven.

Toddler L has a headful of red curls. So many baby gingers in my life!

In the morning I took the company down to the lake. Also, I figured out the secret to babies, and that secret is bubbles. Auntie Lizzie always has bubbles at the ready. 

Happily, we’ll convene again at the end of the month for K’s wedding, minus our Galapagonian resident (who, sadly, I didn’t get any pictures of. Sorry S, and I know you’re the only one who reads m’blog!). It’s a camping wedding and I’m so excited and only a little nervous about bugs and/or bears & all that comes with camping.

So I took May off to dither about. I have no idea what I did with my time. People ask me, “So what are you doing now that you’re on break?” and I’m not sure what to say. I’ve done scads of nothing, a good deal of napping, a LOT of cleaning, organizing, decluttering. I’ve read a lot, for school and for fun and for dissertation ideas, which is both school AND fun (nerd). I spent a week sick on the couch, I’ve gone for many jogs, some more half-hearted than others. I’ve cooked and baked and made to-do lists. I’ve worked on a novel which I intend to finish, finally, this summer. I’ve baby-sat and changed a diaper by myself. I took sewing lessons from my mom. I proctored the May and June SATs at my friend’s school. I’ve avoided spending money.

Seriously, I’ve napped a LOT. I picked up some multivitamins yesterday because I’m pretty sure I have a B12 deficiency. It’s either that, or Laziness Disease. Either way, I’m confident Flintstone’s will cure me.

But now it’s time to get back onto a regular reading schedule before my brain falls out of my ear.

To that end, I devised a beautiful 3 book/week reading schedule chock-full of stick-to-it-ness and incentive (the incentive being, take exam in early September without undue stress or panic). So if you need me, I’ll be at my summer office, where the view is marvelous…

…until it gets too hot. Then I’ll be inside cranking the AC to shameful levels.

We’ve spent the past two Sundays gardening like a coupla ol hippies.

Planted: tomatoes (3 kinds); onions; red pepper; cucumber; summer squash; green beans; broccoli; kale; arugula; bibb lettuce; parsley; cilantro; mint; thyme; chives; basil; strawberries. And corn, which we hope will grow into something we can shape into a corn maze for the fall.

This is our “salad table.” I got the idea from Apartment Therapy. Dave was happy to use his power tools. And I helped by holding things in place and drinking summer shandies.

The rest of the plants went in a simple container garden that the neighbor’s cat will probably delight in using as a litter box.

I see a lot of salads in my future.

That was a success. I also made lemon sorbet, which was a failure of diabetic proportions—teeth-achingly sweet. Later I scooped some into a glass of club soda and Pimm’s and drank it in the tub reading food writings.

I’m forever fascinated by food references in books. If a character is eating by the first chapter—or page—of a book, I feel good about it. Yes. This will be a good book, I’ll think. Proust’s madeleines; Haruki Murakami’s descriptions of potato sandwiches and spaghetti-making; that early scene in Jane Eyre when the Lockwood children are given coffee and bread and cheese…these specific scenes of eating draw me in and stick in my brain. The more prosaic or ordinary the scene, the better. The small, subtle choices an author makes in deciding whether her character will eat spaghetti or cake (or nothing at all) never go unnoticed by me. I have food blinders on when I read, and I’m trying to figure out why. Maybe because of the reciprocal relationships between food and culture? The constructions of why we eat what we eat? The semiotics behind food choices and packaging and cooking and kitchen? (or maybe because I simply want to combine two passions of mine without ever working in a kitchen or cooking For Real?) Something like that. I’m mulling this over.

Last summer I began to read as much food writing and food history/cultural history as I could. I am bananas about this, but I can’t put my finger on what exactly I’m so interested in. Not all food writings interest me in the same way: while I’m curious about purely scientific or nutritional or historical works, I’m more interested in cultural histories, ones that are part memoir, part anthropological study, part history. I read Candyfreak (which I found on the high school required summer reading table at my library, thankyouverymuch) the other day and couldn’t put it down, read it on the treadmill, in bed. I finished it and thought, yes, I want more. And I want chocolate.

This is all to say: I’ve spent the last two years of grad school writing a bunch of academic papers that deal precisely with food within literature (and here I’ve only dabbled a little at a time on Italo Calvino; Murakami; Jhumpa Lahiri; Shani Mootoo and Caribbean culture; slave narratives like Frederick Douglass and Harriet Jacobs), I am certain I want to hone in on this interest in my dissertation. Stay tuned I guess, as I suss it out.

…And in doing so, I thought I’d list some of my favorite books about food—cultural histories, nonfiction, memoirs. I’m sure I’m missing a ton: any ideas? (This website also offers a whole slew of promising beach reads. Is it too early to say the word “beach”?)

• Almond, Steve. Candyfreak: Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly of America
• Belasco, Warren and Philip Scranton, Eds. Food Nations: Selling Taste in Consumer Societies
• Haber, Barbara. From Hardtack to Homefries: An Uncommon History of American Cooks and Meals
• Kamp, David. The United States of Arugula: How We Become a Gourmet Nation
• Nestle, Marion. What to Eat
• Pollan, Michael. The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals
• Standige, Tom. A History of the World in 6 Glasses
• Tannahill, Reay. Food in History
• Vileisis, Ann. Kitchen Literacy: How We Lost Knowledge of Where Food Comes from and Why We Need to Get it Back
• Wizenberg, Molly. A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table

On my bookshelf/library request list:

• David, Elizabeth. An Omelette and a Glass of Wine
• Ferrari-Adler, Jenni, Ed. Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant: Confessions of Cooking for One and Dining Alone
• Fisher, M.F.K. The Art of Eating
• Mintz, Sidney W. Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History
• Sokolov, Raymond. Why We Eat What We Eat: How Columbus Changed the Way the World Eats
• Standage, Tom. An Edible History of Humanity
• Williams, Susan. Food in the United States: 1820s-1890s. 

(fruit from Portugal)

Ruh-roh! What is GERD? Do I have it? It sounds awful! But the sun is finally out so I’m going to take some podcasts, an iced tea, my bronchitis, GERD, and heart attack, and go for a walk and snip bits of lilac from the overgrowing tree down the street. Happy weekend!

Today I woke up feeling halfway normal for the first time in days. This cold/cough mess really jacked me up! Today I need to/would like to behave like a human again, and not a slothy lump of crumpled tissues, blankets, and hacking. Big big plans. Huge!  Would like to: disinfect the house, cook/eat food that isn’t popsicles, launder everything in sight, run some errands. Maybe take some exercise to get the ol’ lungs working again.

Speaking of exercise! I posted “before” pics of DP’s new studio. Here, finally, are some “afters.”

The picture of the coat-rack is there because little ol’ ME put it together, and it took about 10 hours because first I did it backwards and had to take it all apart and shake my fist at that smug little Ikea figure in the manual. So I’m unduly proud of the result which is kinda sad.

Don’t all the exercise balls make it look fun? It is. Like Chunky Cheese for grown-ups. This room, which is nice and big and empty, now has mirrors. And is also a good place to have solo dance parties.

Now I have more time to blog. And watch Hoarders: Buried Alive. And then guiltily clean my house. I’ve been home sick all weekend. My little nephew, who I watch on Fridays, was quite literally snot-nosed last Friday, and now I am too. Good thing he is so darn cute! Or else I’d make him come over here and wipe my nose.

Found lots of free things to do during my My-No-Spring, including:

• rearrange art and decor without buying anything new
• de-clutter, which is my favorite thing to do
• watch last season’s Design Star on Hulu
• slow runs outside
• epsom salt baths in fancy new bathtub
• read read read, both for fun and to knock off some items for my next exam
• brainstorm dissertation topics, even if the ideas seems kinda crazy. totally crazy.
• make an Amazon wish list of things I would buy if I could but probably never will (and that’s okay, because sometimes putting them on the list and letting them linger there is enough to quell the craving)
• celebrate our 11-monthiversary (I know that’s not a thing) with homemade pizza followed by a jaunt down to ye ol’ fashioned ice cream shoppe downtown with a Groupon I snatched up two months ago

We’ve lived here for about 5 or 6 years and sure, we’ve had some problems—most notably, our teeny bathroom had no exhaust and the ceiling was covered in creepy mold that creeped down the ceiling onto the walls and probably into our lungs. About once a year we’d make a phone call, and six months later they’d sent painters over who would scrape off the ceiling and paint over the mold. And then a week later one dot of mold would appear and reproduce like Quiverfull bunnies.

The last paint job (done in September) resulted in the ceiling slowly peeling off like sunburnt skin, and dropping on you while you showered. You will probably be appalled with this photo. I apologize for being so disgusting.

I know normal adults would have been on the phone with the landlords every day until this was rectified. We called, I dunno, maybe once a month or so? I don’t think they quite believed us.

Anyway, we finally got them to come and look at it, and start the arduous process of getting approval from the owners (who we’ve never met; we go through a realtor company and are convinced the owner of this house lives in the Grand Caymans somewhere and doesn’t remember that she even owns this house). Blah blah blah. After a few days of construction and not being able to pee while they fixed it, bathroom is no longer gross! And neither are we, for living here!

Instead of re-painting over the problem, they tore it all apart, installed an exhaust and a fancy new mold-proof ceiling and walls. And I asked them to please throw away the ugly 70s shelving unit that lived above the toilet. It is currently on the curb if you want to swing by and grab it.

Hurrah! Today I’m going to scrub the tub and take a long bubble bath and marvel at a ceiling that stays where it’s supposed to!