Ok disclaimer: Many posts to come are those that have been hiding...deep in the crevices of my brilliance. Yes, I understand you ask yourself, "why not share your genius with the world?" and to that I respond, "uhm...I'm lazy?" Yes. That and extremely busy. Lazy/busy does not equal wit and candor therefore; I am here again to write to you all the nonsense that I can because let's face it. You really do want to know. So as I said, these have been hiding, in my brain, and also as drafts on my computer so their timing may seem off. Such as the following, about it being extremely hot for instance. It is now becoming glorious in New York so this was started...oh let's say...in July? Sorry for the delay all you kitten lovers...but here we go again...
Sometime in July...
Well, as I am sure many of you have heard or even, unfortunately enough, felt the miserable state that New York has been in. It's hot. Like really hot. Like something is bubbling inside my stomach hot. I moved to New York, bitched about the cold, couldn't wait until summer because, let's face it, I moved from Charleston a place so hot one can fry just about anything on the sidewalk, and by southern disposition, usually try to. So why am I so uncomfortably hot? Why can't I handle it? Why are both Hux and I interchangeably crying/sweating ourselves to sleep? This story actually begins several weeks ago...(so who knows when actually in the grand scheme of time)
Before it was miserable, it was really quite glorious out. The sun was shinin', the breeze was blowin', the kids were singin', the kittens were purrin' (you get the picture). So in order to enjoy this beautiful weather in my apartment, I cracked the windows (obviously to an appropriate kitty cat level to ensure the safety and well being of my main man). It was beautiful. The wind and breeze came in and I have this big ass fan and all is just easy peasy breezy wonderful. But then came...the flies.
So many flies. Like disgusting amounts of flies. It icks me out just thinking about it now. They were everywhere. I've dealt with flies before but this was something new to me. Now, I knew this in theory ok. But so..you know how maggots...come from flies? I knew this, of course, but the whole mechanics of the fly/maggot birthing process was something I never thought about, in depth. Well, now the entire process will be permanently burned into my brain until the day I die. So, one fine day, fed up with the fly infestation, I take my copy of the Fountain Head (still haven't finished that lofty endeavor), and I wait to attack this HUGE fly. I aim, without breathing, karate kid style, and throw the book at the fly. I succeed. But I can't find the evil being. I look on the ground. On the windowsill. Where is its nasty ass? Oh, he's on the book, dead, with maggots FLOWING out of him. Shouldn't there be an egg laying period before the cretins can move? Isn't that how gestation works? Evidently, not.
As you can imagine, hysteria ensued. I did enough hand washing to give even the most OCD kid a run for their money. But this was just the beginning. Because once you kill one, the taste of blood lingers in your mouth. You want them all dead. But being, you know, the semi-yogic, kinda girly type character that I am, I kept myself from attempting the wide spread genocide of flies. But then another little funny thing happened. Again, laugh all you want, but I couldn't just close the windows. No that would be foolish. It was just too lovely of weather to squander. Side note: in Charleston, especially north of Spring Street, most of one's windows are not only nailed but also painted shut, for safety purposes of course, so the ability to the let the wind flow freely through my room was just too good of a treat to pass up. Until..until one fateful day...
I'd been in the habit of just letting my fatty fat big boned beast eat all his food and then refilling it with more food once it seemed more or less empty. Well, Huxtable, being the...temperamental beast that he is, decided to be kinda slow on the eating of his morning wet food. Well since I was running out the door, I really didn't have the energy or time to clean his bowl (because I'm usually a solid 5-10 minutes late when it comes to going to work...however, all social events I am usually 5-10 minutes early...just a thing about me). And I guess I did this for about two days...because I went to clean his food bowl out and lo and behold...his food is moving! Yep...Friskies was about to take a walk on its own down the gastrointestinal highway of huge and I mean HUGE maggots. Oh lordy, they were disgusting. I actually ended up just throwing out the bowl. What was I going to do? Clean out the bowl and make sure the maggots all went down the drain....ew. No thanks. I may be a brat but whatevs...we got extra bowls.
So that led to a major break down. No windows were allowed to be left open. Punishable by extreme dirty looks and resentful sighs. But then it got hot. But what was I to do?! I couldn't have maggots? Not in my doctor's food! So I sweat. For an entire month, the month of July, it was so hot in my room I went to work early. I'd go to the gym before and after work to shower because showering at my apartment only led me to sweat and thus revert to my pre-shower state. There was no resolution to this story. Only that I moved August 1st and got an AC unit the day I moved in...which leads me to ask just a general New York question? What's up with no central AC? Are you above it? You do realize most of the country has this illusive thing called central AC...even in the apartment buildings...yep. Comes with...the apartment? Have you heard of this NEW YORK? Just spreadin' the gospel for y'all...I might be a little slow and from the south, but hey, I've caught up with modern technology just fine.
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