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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Give peace a chance

My new washer was just delivered and installed, and wouldnít you know it? The managers of this dumb complex decided that today would be the optimal day to turn off the water in my building.

Boo.

The delivery dudes hooked everything up, but were unable to test the machine cause of the aforementioned water business. So they gave me a phone number to call if something goes haywire during the washerís maiden load. All thatís left for me to do is rassle up some dirty clothes, buy different front-loader-compatible detergent, and wait for the water to be turned back on.

No more Laundromats for me! I am free to wash and dry with impunity! The machine is tiny and sparkling white!

In other news: the surgeonís office called back and a NICE person gave me a new surgery date. Itís now Thursday August 5. This means Iíll have to miss Beulahís last show on earth at Battery Park, but my health is more important than rocking out no matter what my inner teenager says. My loyalty to that band is well documented, so one missed show date (even if it is the last) will be ok. I know theyíre not breaking up because I didnít support them with ticket, t-shirt and cd purchases. My conscience is clean.

You know what isnít clean? The damn carpeting in this apartment. I vacuum like crazy, but to no avail. It will never look pristine no matter how OCD I become about it. There were stains when we moved in, and we noted them on our move-in report, but I think what drives me even more crazy is the way the fibers bend this way and that after theyíve been walked on. It creates a kind of visual noise that most people donít notice, but that makes me want to scream!

If I have to have carpeting, Iíd prefer carpeting with short fibers that are perfectly flat or at the very least, evenly striped like the disciplined grass in a baseball field.

I feel the same way with sofas. I donít like sofas that look like theyíve been sat in. I want a sofa that is made of memory foam with supertight upholstery so the minute you remove your ass, the indentation self-seals and returns the surface to its placid, virginal flatness. Not for me the flaccid slipcover, or the overstuffed armchair that swallows you whole in its Amma embrace!

Some people think I am anti-comfort, furnishing my space with pieces that say ďdonít linger!Ē but I just want peace.

Peace. Thatís all I want. Is that too much to ask?

When the washer is $1100, and the dream sofa $6000, I guess peace is indeed too much to ask.

9:58 a.m. - 2004-07-20

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