Okay, so I don't really have a Frau Pita story to tell you all except this: Yesterday, as I was getting ready to join friends and bloggers at an awesome Boxing Day open house in which fabulous people ate delicious food and swilled fabulous hooch, Latina Gladys Kravitz came a-knocking on my door to tell me that "oh, the problem is back." The means that once again water leaked from my bathroom into her kitchen. You remember Frau fixing this problem herself a few months back. Gladys called the Frau who was coming over to have a look. Since a) I was on my way out; and b) I didn't feel like facing the Frau, I hurried got dressed, swiped some mascara on my lashes and dashed out the door leaving a key with the nosiest neighbor on God's green earth. I spent hours in the company of the aforementioned fabulous crowd and arrived home well into the evening, so as to avoid any possible Frau sighting. A quick survey of my home showed no obvious signs of Frau having been here. Gladys wasn't home so I couldn't ask her. This meant I was sure to see some Frau on Saturday and I hadn't avoided her at all just like my horoscope had said--something about partying will not make my problems go away. Pfft.
Today, while reading in bed and trying to stay warm because Oh My God it was 56 degrees in my living room, I heard people in the apartment next door. "Crap! Frau is here!" At the same moment, I was reading a particularly sad passage and crying a little and the phone rang. "Son a bitch I don't want to talk to her right now." But it wasn't the Frau. It was my Dad, who called because he was in the city waiting for one of his folks (Daddy drives limos) and to tell me of the death of my favorite uncle, Bill, (my mom's older brother and Dad's brother-in-law twice--Dad married Mom and Bill married Dad's sister). Not that I was particularly close to Uncle Bill since I was younger, but I liked him a lot and I know Mom will be sad. I wanted to call her as soon as Dad hung up but the Frau was still out front with the potential new neighbors and the book was making me weep uncontrollably. I mean, really, ugly sobs that leave your face blotchy. I heard car doors and the potential new neighbors drove off, followed by Frau, who still hasn't come in to fix whatever is causing the leak in Gladys' apartment. So, can I use my shower or not, because I have another fabulous shindig to go to tonight and I needs to shower.
Finally, I recommend--no, I insist--that you read "I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone" by Stephanie Kuehnert.This is the book that I read from 10pm to 2am, then woke up at 8am and finished reading today. This is the book that made me weep. This made me want to slap some characters and hug other characters and slap, then hug the main character more than once. This book made me gasp at a twist I did not see coming. So good. Soooo Good.
I don't think anyone is home downstairs. I'm going to chance the shower so I can go wish Catherine a Happy 34th Birthday.