Guys, this may be a short one. Only a few mins to write before I’m forced back out in the elements in search of a toilet I can use. You’re probably wondering where I’m typing this, sans-commode. The subway? A greenhouse? A stagecoach? Nope, nope and psh, I wish! I’m actually in my apartment. Where I live and sleep but no longer have the freedom to shower or shave or shit. (JK, I never shit anywhere, I’m a girrrrl!)
But seriously. We are in the midst of a minor renovation project to fix some leaky tiles on floor. The construction was started on November 20, 2010 at approximately 11:00 AM was supposed to take no more than 2 days. It is now December 8, 2010 at approximately 8:16 in the PM and it is STILL. NOT. DONE. Every day sun-up to sun-down, our apartment is overrun with construction workers. At times, the toilet is in the kitchen, the hot water heater in the hallway. There is dirt and garbage covering the apartment and an old bathtub just laying in the stairwell. I’ve never remodeled a bathroom or built or fixed anything, at all (unless you count the Ikea armoire I once assembled – about once a week the sliding door would fall off and I’d have to leap away to avoid being crushed to death – it was a fun game!), so I’m not really what you’d call an “expert” on home construction but WHAT are they doing in there?! I am losing my mind.
We were actually only without official use of the toilet for a day or two, but even when it is up and running, the work men are in the bathroom hammering or sawing or caulking or whatever, so if we need to use the john we have to knock on the door and be all “hi, um, I need to, you know, use the, um, toilet” and then they file out of the bathroom and idle right outside the door, waiting for you to finish. And you can’t even run the tap or anything because, whoops, the water’s turned off! I’m not one to get pee shy (more on that later) but uggghhhhh. Go awaaaaaaay.
Also, not to be super racist or anything but the construction guys speak very, very limited English (to be fair, I speak very, very limited Spanish – see, not racist!) so basic communication becomes difficult. The answer to the question “so, are you coming back tomorrow” is apparently “you no inside nail.” “Can we turn on the water?” “Saturday, Sunday, no lights.”
I’ve taken to wandering the neighborhood looking for somewhere with a little more privacy and in the past few weeks have used bathrooms in: Barnes & Noble, a hotel, the laundromat, the tranny bar underneath my apartment, the gym (I guess this one is a positive), Subway sandwich shop, like 10 different Starbucks, the movie theater, a friend’s house, Forever 21, Whole Foods and, Cleanse me Lord, a public restroom in Central Park. At the rate my standards are sinking, I’ll be peeing in the stables with the carriage horses or wearing depends under my jeggings if they don’t wrap this up by the end of the week.