My darlings, I still don’t have the Orange Perfumes post done because Just Keep Reading. Blame. El O. This post is not going to be an invective against him. Noooooo….I promise. I will simply lay out the facts and let you draw your own conclusions – and I’ll weave a bit of perfume within. And then we’ll go on our merry way, whistling a happy tune. Or, perhaps, the tune will be the theme from…. Really, guys….not ONE of you would convict me. So here’s what happened. Remember the Polar Vortex? -15F MINUS-15 FIF-TEEN Be-freakin’-LOW!??? “honey, should we run a trickle of water tonight?” – stupid me, I should’ve just run the damn water. Something about me saying anything about ANYTHING brings out the Terrible Twos. My daddy had a saying ‘you cain’t tell him fat meat is greasy’ and my daddy wuz right. Anyhoo….busted pipe. Now…busted pipe in the Land of El O is like a broken fingernail in a salon. You fix it and move on. Unless you are Crazy. In which case you……..you……you…suddenly decide to rip out all the plumbing in the ONLY shower..in JANUARY!!…..and then you take FIVE DAYS to fix it.
Day One: I’m stunned – but somehow not surprised – that our bathroom pipes froze. After all, it’s -15 and the pipes are in a crawlspace. And I was idiotic enough to seek his opinion about the water because I am an idiot. So. okay. My shower from the night before and the ‘bits and pieces’ spongebath will have to do. I was in Carnal Flower the night before. I’m still in Carnal Flower. Could be worse.
Day Two: Pipes are thawed. Pipe is found to be busted. Rut-row! Water shut off. Luckily I have water in several pitchers and the coffeemaker is full, etc. I have hot water in the kitchen so I can ‘bits and pieces’ and so I do…..still Carnal Flower cause ‘bits and pieces’. That evening he fixes the pipe and I’m thinking ‘fie,fie, fiddledeedee, we’ll just limp the old pipes along until Spring’ because that’s what non-crazy people do, right? The sponge bath (replete with a pitcher of hot water poured over me) is a novelty and enough to squiggle me into a feeling of complacency…….I slather on some Jergens and Chanel No 5 because it reminds me of my mother, who was a bath person. He’ll hook that shower-dawg back up in time for PopTarts!
Day Three:Um. No. No PopTarts. Mr Psychopath decides to rip out all the plumbing. We can get water from the sink but not the bath – and certainly not the shower. So here I am, in freezing temps, standing in front of the sink, soaping up (which just feels squicky), then stepping into the tub with a pitcher of water…then stepping out again to get yet another pitcher of water….you see how this would be insane, right? Jergens and Heeley Amandiere…which works in theory but not if you have just sponged-and-poured. Something about the combo makes me feel like this I manage to scrub off the Amandiere and reapply No 5. At night I tried out a bit of TDC Rose Poivre, the original formulation, which has a Dirty Girl vibe that goes well with my crunchy-feelin’ self. Hey, I’m a middle-class American girl. I live for The Shower.
Day 4: Still no shower, lots of flexible tubing in the bathroom, which looks like a missile hit it, with the hole in the floor and crap everywhere….El O is starting to worry. I am not yelling at him. I am not giving him the side eye. I’m being pleasant. This can’t be good. What he doesn’t realize is, I’ve put on Mitsouko (at a friend’s mention) and I am now morphing into this: Here’s a newsflash for ya: Mitsouko is NOT THAT GIRL. Day 4, trapped in a house with a torn-up bathroom, a pitcher of hot water and freezing temps? Before you know it, the person who started this mess is flinching with every move I make and sleeping with one eye open….Mitsy started whispering sweet nothings about the cleaver. The whispering??? Crap, I scared myself!
Day 5: It’s Fun to Stay at the YMCA! For $10 I was able to stand in a hot shower for 45 minutes. Okay. Not. It was 20 minutes in a hot shower, then 20 minutes in the sauna (the Y doesn’t have towels? but they have a sauna? Sometimes it’s just weird, innit?) then 45 minutes in another hot shower. I dried off with paper towels, slathered myself with Amouage Gold lotion….went and had a nice lunch….came home and was all
Of course, he had no idea I’d gone to the Y (it’s in Peoria, we’re not members, etc), nor did he have any idea I boosted $10 from his wallet (squoo him. who takes apart the only functioning shower in the house – in January? I’m going back for gas and lunch money, dammit!). The fact that I said NOTHING about the shower scared the living snot out of him – lemme tell you, the evening of Day 5? That shower was FIXED!
So here I sit, Day 6, showered and dried with real towels and feeling mostly Not Bitey. I’m in the most beautiful Coty Chypre – 1940s. Smells like Paradise. But I think I’ll keep something on the nightstand, Just In Case he thinks about doing something else stupid…… any recommendations???