Sunday, January 20, 2008
Fixin' A Hole
(Note: I've been in agony from sciatica for the past 24 hours and am blogging standing up, hunched over my keyboard like Jerry Lee Lewis.)
I decided that the poster was sucking the life out of the room and if I had to look at it one more day I would lose my will to live. I caught the last free shuttle bus to IKEA, where I braved heavy crowds and people banging into each other like pinballs, and picked up a poster and a frame: 
The next thing I have to fix is me. Work's been a knock-down drag-out lately, we're having record cold weather today, and I'm at home resting with painkillers and a heating pad and clicking back and forth between the Giants-Packers playoff game and a "What Not To Wear" marathon, thus satisfying my male and female sides at once. Although I keep putting Eli Manning in kitten heels.
The tile guys were here in Friday morning to fix my bathroom floor, where I had discovered a hole on New Year's. I'd thought they were going to pull up the floor and put down a new one. Instead, they used these tiles the size of paving stones and just laid them over the old floor.
It looks good, but because the building is 150 years old and there are no level floors or right angles anywhere, the unevenness of the floor is already causing cracks in the grout.
As my Bulgarian neighbor says, "Every time you fix something, is broken by building."
So yesterday I was looking at the kitchen wall, where I had hung a cheap print of the Brooklyn Bridge a couple of years ago to cover a hole that has since been fixed:
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No, but my living room floor is slowly caving in, so soon there will be a tunnel to my downstairs' neighbor's apartment.
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