When I got home from my appointment downtown, I promptly ditched the dressy duds and called my sister. As I was gabbing away, I heard a gush of water outside my house. It wasn't raining. Huh? Turns out Frau Piss-me-off hired pressure washers to wash the filthy outside of our house. Naturally, she didn't feel the need to inform the tenants and neither did the pressure washers. My bathroom, sunroom, and kitchen windows were open. Fortunately, the sunroom blinds were down and caught most of the water, but in the bathroom, the water sprayed dirty water and muck all over the wall opposite the window, not to mention the stream that ran down from the sill. I hurried to the kitchen, still on the phone with Katie, and slammed the window shut in the face of the pressure washer dude...forgetting that I had no pants on. Pressure washer dude got a good shot of my fat ass as I walked away. Apparently, he liked what he saw because he kept calling to me, but I was too mortified to go back into the kitchen. The results of their washing excursion was a less dirty house and paint chips all over my porch, mailbox, sidewalk and yard.
Today, the team is back. This time they are scraping old paint (what's left, anyway) off the house in order to paint it. They started at 8:00am. They started on the front of the house right outside my bedroom window. Now, there are even more paint chips on my porch and mailbox.
This is mean. I know it's mean. I'm a mean person. That said, I was walking to the corner mailbox yesterday near school when I saw a man hunkered down next to a wheelchair behind a waist-high wall (by the bank, for my school friends). He appeared to be, um, relieving himself. I must have startled him, even though, as detailed in the Rules For Angelenos handbook, I didn't look directly at him. He lost is balance, which must have been precarious at best given his use of a wheelchair, and landed on his butt. That alone is enough to make me titter, but then I realized that he most likely fell in a pile of poop. Those who know me know what I did next.
I know, I should have helped him up, but remember the poop? and the smell? ew.
Okay, so this doesn't make me go "Arrgh," but it's worth mentioning. Guess who works at my school. Go ahead. Guess. Carla! She's the new English teacher, who I knew was named Carla, but never figured it was our Carla. Isn't that funny? It's a small world after all, it's a small world after all...you can thank me later for having that song stuck in your head. I'm off to class now.