posted by: audra
rain. when i first moved to pdxoxo, i hated the rain. i mean, hated. i remember a particular instance–circa spring 2000–heading into safeway with sam, walking across the parking lot. it was raining. hard. i said, “god, i can’t wait for this fucking rain to stop! will it ever?!” sam replied, “well, you moved to portland…get used to it.” at the time, it made me so fucking mad.
then i started working in the service industry, where when it’s sunny outside, it brings people!
i hate people. i do.
so, in turn, i began associating sunny, warm days with annoying patrons–their little crumb-snatching crotch maggots in tow. i would look forward to forecasts urging portlanders to “pack your umbrellas! batten down the hatches! it’s gonna get nasty!” but when i started working a normal office job, i found the rain to irritate me. it makes traffic worse. it makes the product in my hair liquefy. it could run a brow, given the direction of the wind.
and now it just makes our fucking mudroom wet.
several weeks ago, our roof started leaking. i walked into the kitchen one hungover afternoon, to get some water. i stood at the sink, looking into the mudroom through the window a la roseanne conner, & the ceiling was all water-stained, drips coming from above. after poking sam a few times to coax him out of bed to go knock on our landlord’s studio door to fetch some help, some plastic was placed on the roof. temporarily, of course, until a more permanent fix could be brought forth. on a dry day, the roof was indeed fixed.
it rained quite a bit over the following weeks & not a drop was dripped. it was fixed! amazing! then last night after a massive downpour, it started leaking again, this time in new places & more enthusiastically. the landlord came this morning to investigate, & was not happy–with his repair job or the leak in general. just to be sure, he looked underneath the house (we have a dungeon! it’s creepy! like, where one would stash a body, should the need arise!), and checked the bathroom for any suspicious leaks.
first he wanted to check the shower caulking. i told him that it “might be gross”, as i hate cleaning the shower. he pulled open the curtain, and there i saw a wad of my hair balled up on the shower floor. gross. i was horrified. but i let it pass…he didn’t seem disturbed.
this is when i took the opportunity to tell him about the phantom smell in the bathroom cabinet.
remember the one? the one i told you about? the one that’s like mildewy towels left to rot in the washing machine on a 90 degree day, for like, a week?! that one!
he poked around in the cabinet area a bit, pushing aside moisturizers & kitten powders…then said that it was an old house, & that maybe it was something the previous (dirty fucking hippies!) tenants had put in there & that maybe it’d absorbed the smell. typical. then he said that it smelled good to him (i now stow incense in there), & not to worry about it. he got kind of weird at this point, nervous, & said that maybe “baking soder” would get rid of some of the odor, if it was still a problem.
“did i just say baking soder?!”
“yes, you did!” i giggle.
“well, ha…you know, baking soda.”
“oh, duh! of course. yes, i’ll try that.”
“well, it looks like everything’s okay in here!”
later that evening, after said landlord gets on the roof to put up some more plastic, apologizing for it looking trashy, sam comes home. we decide to leave the house for awhile. first, i must use the loo–otherwise i’ll have to pee as soon as we shut the car doors.
i’m going about business as usual, & glance down at the offending cabinet that was previously inspected by the landlord. there i see, on the bottom shelf, gleaming like an oracle from baby jesus, my hot pink vibrator with spinning pearls in the shaft. the ultra 2000 with the golden handle & varying speeds, out on display for all to see.
rain will get you nowhere.