Saturday, September 09, 2006


I had a sudden realisation this morning while chopping up the last of my melon: Children like cats and dogs should not be kept in Paris apartments. I fear I may have been a little uncharitable to these children who are so proudly announced on the letter box label above mine ‘Philieas Fogg and their children’. I may have wished them nailed to the floor or cursed their parents, I may even have wished them an early death, but now I realise that if I am ever going to sleep in on a Saturday again I should wish for a pair of earplugs. My second wish should be to befriend the father (who always seems to be leaving or entering as I leave or struggle to enter my front door – haven’t quite got the hang of the locks yet) and subtly share my theory with him. No, if I am going to wish for slow, painful, early deaths I reckon I need to save all my death wishes for my absolute fuckwit of a boss; that is if I get through today.

You see this is the absurdity of the situation, yesterday my friends and I sat in an Ethiopian restaurant next to three of the funniest gay guys I have ever eavesdropped on, planning how to get a fridge down four flights of stairs. Actually I wasn’t planning, I was listening to the little guy explain how he feels who he is may have traumatised the younger half of his family and then talking about all the ‘lovely’ people in his new job without drawing breath. Then the tall one started in on his family and his favourite aunt this, and how he was close to cousin so and so and the middle aged on just provided the uhms and appropriate ahhs. After the three of them had whipped out these fabulous mobile phones – they all looked great compared to our cheapo plastic Nokias – the little one said that since he had lost his he wasn’t spending large amounts on phones anymore. At this point I think I had managed to miss the more absurd proposals for getting a fridge out the flat such as getting climbing rope and lowering it out the window or using the wheelie bit of a wheelie shopping trolley.

After I had ploughed my way round the injera covered in various delicacies in concentric circles we arrived at one of the more lucid plans. Cover it in blankets and slide it down, one at the top and two at the bottom. It was also probably at that point that we all began to phone Jim begging for help.

So this morning when the screaming herd of elephants made their presence known to me by cannoning into our adjoining wall every few seconds I woke up and gasped. But how the hell do we get the fridge out the kitchen, down the hall and at the stairs?

And unbuild the wardrobe? And clear the cave and... OK deep breaths and don’t panic. Colleen and Lise are going to help you and it will all be alright even if Lise does have to go and grab a perfect stranger from the street. OK calm, calm and calm.


Marie said...

Earplugs don't work for me. I just can't sleep. As it's still quite warm I leave a fan on in my bedroom at night just to give me something else to hear other than my downstairs neighbour's blaring TV. Don't know what I'll do in the winter though.

Minx said...

Oh poor you, noise abuse is enough to tempt anyone to murder. In our first house we found ourselves up against an alcoholic who would leave his tv on full blast all night. Luckily he also forgot to lock the doors so the MD used to go in and turn it off.
I sometimes see our old neighbour, he doesn't know how close to death he came!

Verilion said...

It wasn't really the noise that was bothering me. I think I got 'em all back by connecting my i-pod to speakers in the bathroom last night and singing at the top of my voice while I let all the aches and pains soak away. It was getting that bloody fridge down the stairs that was giving me nightmares. Still it's done now and we all a great sense of achievement was felt by all... and a few bruises and aches.

Verilion said...

Did I also mention I was really tired. I'm making no sense!

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