To start off with, I think you might need a rundown of my usual day off routine, as a reference point:
- Stumble out of my room anywhere between 11:00 and 12:30, plonk down on the grey couch directly outside my door, stare at the carpet for a while as Matt and/or Pete play Mortal Kombat: Shaolin Monks or watch a DVD with the audio commentary on or sommat.
- Go get some Sultana Bran, back to the couch. Maybe watch some Dr. Phil or Oprah.
- Go for shower, fall asleep in shower, go back to my room, fall asleep in room.
- Maybe walk to McDonald's? Who knows?
- Probably diddle around on the innanet for a bit, I don't know
- Yeah, I really don't know what I do with my time, hey.
- Okay, it started off slowly. After a whole bunch of snoozin' and a series of short, half-awake phone conversations with Jessie, I finally emerged around 12:30.
- Dicked around for a bit, but inspired by my "retrieving the coffee-machine screw from the drain!" heroics from last night at work, I decided to once and for all fix our blocked bathroom sink!
- Pulled the U-bend off, a bit gunky but nothing too bad. The real fun ws in the other bit of pipe, the one which is shaped like a mind-blowing 3D MC Escher letter S. You know the one. It contained a huge wad of black, horrid-smelling crap. At first it just appeared to be hair and soap scum, but upon getting it out of its polypipe lair (by using the highly technical manoeuvre of whacking it against the brickwork outside) I discovered that the core of Satan's Wad™ was in fact a highly complex Spirograph-looking mess consisting of about 12 rusty, gunk-covered bobby pins. Okay, one bobby pin would be understandable. I mean, the odds of such a thing being accidentally dropped down the drain aren't exactly stacked up. Two? Yeah, yeah whater. But twelve? That's a fucking concentrated terrorist campaign waged against the plumbing of 35A! Who would do such a thing? Al Qaeda? ETA? The UVF? THE KLF??? No, no, it was most likely Rachael. What's up Rachael?
OKAY I MUST INTERUPT MY THRILLING RUNDOWN OF MY DAY'S EVENTS TO TELL YOU, MR. POSSUM OR WHATEVER YOU ARE, TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF OUR CEILING. OR AT LEAST MOVE YOUR BASE CAMP AWAY FROM MY ROOM.
- So yeah, after successfully un-clogging the drain, I was left with teh task of putting it all back together. Uhh... But after some sweet sweet trail and error, I managed to fit the mystery black O-ring back in its rightful place, and everything seems to be hunky-dory. Until it bursts in the middle of the night (I have a contingency plan for that though: A Tupperware container under the sink! Genius!)
- I don't know if any of you have reached offical Manly Man's Man sink-fixer status, but if you had you'd know that sink-fixing is stinky business. And no amount of hand scrubbing would seem to lessen the stank. So what does one do when unable to remove a smell from their skin? Replace it with another smell! And what smell is particularly renowned for defeating any of scent and stamping itself all over the soft epidermis of your palms and fingers? That's right - dishwater. So yeah, I did the dishes.
- By this point I was in the midst of a cleaning frenzy! So my towels and bedding all became so fresh and so clean clean.
- Yeah, I had a shower and fell asleep in the shower. Nothing can stand in the way of that.
- Next up I was sitting in my room draped only in a green towel, probably mere minutes away from a naked afternoon nap (Why does everyone have such a problem with nude napping?) when I got a message from Matt. Police drama at the corner of Angove and Charles? I'm there! I was also feeling rather peckish at the time, so I used this as an excuse for a McDonald's trip. There seemed to have been some sort of harsh as fuck car accident, but all I saw was a little silver hatchback up on its side and police/ambulance/fire crews everywhere. No sign of another vehicle, so how this car ended up in that position, I'll never know. And in case you were wondering, my quarter pounder was okay. Maybe a C+. Competent, but lacking initiative or innovation.
- At some point I braved the TORRENTIAL DOWNPOUR (Read: Light shower) and made my way to Charles St. Fressssh, where I bought some flour, milk and eggs. Pancakes? No...
- Yorkshire Pudding! Okay, it was subpar. But it was my first real go at it, and our oven eats bag. It was still okay though, edible enough. A decent starting block for a career in the field of oily, salty batter-based beef accompaniments, I feel.
- Oh yeah, I also cut my nails somewhere along the line. My hands resembled this before I did so:
Fucking Dinocheirus up the wingwang!
So yeah, that was my day. Who knows what tomorrow will hold?!?