Friday, January 13, 2006


What can you say about a girl that doesn't know her own address or phone number, but has mapped out shower locations and times for the next ten days? My bathing strategery is reaching unprecedented levels of planning and logistical nuance. I'm like Napoleon, except instead of directing troop movements to conquer Europe I'm marshaling scrubby poofs and travel-size shampoo bottles from gym shower to the sulphur banya and back again.

Landlady's father was going to come by today and investigate the hot water situation. Meanwhile, I'll just keep getting all the mileage I can squeeze of this little pity party I'm throwing for myself. And if you're counting, yes, that's three mixed metaphors in one sentence.


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