Thursday, January 29, 2009

Lessons From My Shower


After pulling my shower curtain aside today, I realized that there was quite a consequence to the big "bubble" I was feeling on the floor of the bath tub. There was an inch of water on my bathroom floor and it had soaked most of the rag rug that is my shower mat. I called for my boyfriend- partly to help me out of the tub and over the water safely, and partly to just look at him and hope he would see the desperate word of "help" in my eyes. But we all know that men aren't that easy.

I dried off and finished my after-shower routine in the small 1'x2' space that didn't have water on it and got dressed. I called the super and told him about the problem; he said he would come by first thing in the morning. I pulled up the bath mat, hung it over the tub, and threw a couple of towels over the mess of water and got everything off the floor. I just didn't want to deal with another flood. Yes, I said another flood.

You see, Floods and me, we got a thing goin' on. I don't know what it is, and I'm trying really hard to "learn the lesson" here, but it seems like Flood follows me from apartment to apartment. It seems as though I am always dealing with some sort of fallout from, I don't know- either crappy plumbing, or some kinda' crazy water karma!

The first time I lived on my own- like really lived on my own- was after Quent's dad and I got a divorce. I rented a tiny 450 sq. ft. w bedroom house. Our washer and dryer was in our kitchen(in fact, it took up half of our kitchen space!), and the hose from the washer had to drain into the kitchen sink. Well, one night, Q had a bad dream and wet the bed. I woke up to his crying at 3 in the morning, got him undressed, and led him shivering (poor little guy!) into a warm bath. I threw his pj's and bedclothes into the washer while I tried to wash him off "good enough" in a running, middle-of-the-night bath sort of way. He was still crying (he may have still been dreaming) when all of a sudden I heard a gush separate from the running water of the bath tub. He was old enough to be left for a minute (he was 5 at the time) for me to run 3 feet to the kitchen to see that the hose had been dislodged from the sink and was now simply draining onto the floor.

Two weeks later, right before I dropped Q off at kindergarten and rushed myself to get to class on time, I had thrown some laundry together and put it in the washer. We came home at 5:00 that evening to water streaming out of our front door. It had flooded the entire house except for Quentin's room (the house was old and on a slant). That summer we went without carpeting for quite a while and threw out a bunch of ruined furniture.

I won't bore you with the tragedies of our 3 bed 2 bath apartment we had after that which constantly had toilet issues, or the ongoing plumbing issues of this apartment (because frankly, we aren't exactly "up to date" on our rent payments here!), but I have managed to come up with some sort of "lesson" out of all of this:

Things are constantly overflowing in my places of residences, and it seems to happen more so when I am creatively dormant. I make up excuses for not working on a painting, or not recording a dream, or not sketching out a simple drawing in my sketchbook that is right next to my bed! I think my apartments are trying to tell me that if I don't spill it, they will!

Okay, Okay! I surrender! I here on out promise to try harder to act on my creative impulses rather than stifle them. I will paint when I feel the urge! I will write whenever and wherever I want! I will take a walk when I am up to it no matter how cold it is! Laying dormant is probably the worst thing I can do, so I thank you oh Flood. I succumb to your power.

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