The Saga Continues

The trials of post-flood maintenance linger on.  The shower is re-tiled, the holes are fully patched over, and a gigantic dehumidifier is now keeping the giant industrial fan company.  The massive dust quantities remain, and will remain until maintenance is truly complete; and since my carpet is all jacked up with huge amounts of missing padding, and the carpet itself refuses to dry completely, and the walls still need to be repainted, cleaning continues to be put off.

Today I actually got to relax in my apartment, for the first time in 48 hours...when I got back from an interview around 3:30, maintenance had already quit for the day, meaning that I have had the last 7 hours gloriously to myself, without pounding or drilling or the like.  I took advantage of this circumstance by ordering Pizza Hut and watching Spirited Away.  I find that Studio Ghilbli films are particularly good when you're looking for an escapist element with your movie.  I'd never seen Spirited Away before; I'm a fan now.  Go watch it.

I'm too worn out to do a lengthy post of awesomeness, but I'll leave you with a funny moment of the day.  Around 4:45, far into a much-needed nap, I suddenly heard a knock on the door.  Thinking it was maintenance come back, I sprang out of bed, tried to pat my hair into a state fit for public view, and clamored through my dark apartment to my front door, and squinted in confusion as sunlight hit my eyes and cast light onto my disaster of an apartment.  The person at the door was not a maintenance man, however; it was actually a UPS delivery guy, delivering an impulse DVD purchase I made from Amazon the other day.  Met with the roar of the fan/dehumidifier, my semi-disheveled state, and the general chaos which enveloped these elements, he eyed me with concern before saying "Miss Finfrock?" tentatively.  "Yes," I responded.  "Sign here, please," he said, still looking a bit worried for my general well-being, and handed me the electronic sign-y thingy (why I needed to sign for an $8 DVD purchase is beyond me).  I signed it sloppily, still squinting from sunlight, and handed it back.  He, in turn, handed me my package.  I thanked him, and he wandered off, and I shut the door and threw the package on my couch and stumbled back to my bedroom to continue my nap.

Later, I was talking to my friend Brandi on the phone, and she said what was the funniest thing I heard all day:

"That guy probably thought the apocalypse was now, and it was starting in your apartment.  But, of course, we're going to watch that movie first, before the apocalypse spreads."

Maybe that's not funny if you're not Brandi or myself.  But I thought it was hilarious, and it brightened up the general situation.  In case you were wondering, the DVD in question is that Lost in Austen mini-series I saw on TV a few weeks ago...not the epitome of apocalyptic cinema, but when the apocalypse is starting in your apartment, who needs the movie version?