Thursday, February 17, 2011

There's a flood in my bathroom!

I totally scored on my apartment. It's right in the center of Rome, close to campus and is absolutely beautiful. Even the bathroom is exquisite. However, there is a problem.

The Puddle. The constant, stagnant, leering puddle that has taken permanent residence in my beautiful marble bathroom. Every day when I go into the bathroom to fix my face or my hair or do whatever else I do when there's a mirror present, it's there, staring, making its presence known. I have no choice but to step around it.

I've tried different tactics to ignoring The Puddle while still trying to keep my feet dry.
Tactic #1: Spread eagle over the puddle. I keep each foot on either side of The Puddle so I can get close enough to the mirror to put on my face.
Tactic #2: Standing behind the puddle. If I stand behind it, I can lean into the sink in a sort of awkward slanting position, held up only by the fortitude of the marble counter.
Tactic #3: Say fuck it and wear my combat boots. That's right. I mean business. I walk through that Puddle with my steel toes kicking up trouble and meaning it.

So why go through all the trouble of spreading eagle and wearing steel toe boots to combat this Puddle? Why not just mop it up with a towel? Well, my roommate and I tried this quite obvious plan of action to no avail. We mopped it up with a blue towel, and left it there to prevent further puddling. But you see, The Puddle was too much for the towel and we were left with a mess of unraveled blue threads.

The worst was when the landlady and her cleaning crew came over to tidy up. They took one look at our bathroom, shook their heads and gestured wildly. I don't speak Italian but I can only assume that their gestures meant These American girls are pigs! 

Bathroom, will I ever win? 

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