The chair that couldn't

Judith and I had breakfast at the Berkeley Bowl. No, it's not a bowling alley. It's an organic grocery store that also serves breakfast. We had blueberry hotcakes and coffee, nothing on the side, and it came to $13, before tipping. Way too pricey for me to ever eat there again, but it was good, and Judith paid, so muchos gracias.

We talked about this 'n that, but mostly housework. Her son is coming to visit, so Judith needs the guest room shoveled out, and the rest of the house at least borderline presentable. After the pancakes, that's what I did all day.

I don't mind doing housework. It's something this house could use more of. I just never want to do it today, you know?

When I moved in, I was supposed to be the maid, but I've been selling fish five days a week, basically uninterested in being Mr Clean, so I've been paying rent instead. And the house we got so sparkling  clean before Sarah-Katherine came, is a mess again. My natural habitat, and Judith's too.

One of the cats peed on the bed in the guest room. The sheets are being  laundered, and the mattress got scrubbed and deodorized and I think it'll be sleepable.

Before cleaning the stovetop, the pots had to be emptied and washed. One was full of rotting rice, the other a strange green liquid with wormy things growing in it, which smelled awful, so of course I had to sniff it several times.

i wish there was a way to keep odors as mementos, like photos in an album, music on a mix tape. I'd want to keep the smell of that green wormy stuff in a stinkbook.

Scrubbed the toilet lots, and got most of the accumulated griz, but not all of it. The porcelain will be stained forever. I never see the point of cleaning a toilet anyway — it's where shit goes, so of course it's icky — but I gave it my best effort.

The second bathroom, the one we cleaned a month ago, is unusable again. The door is blocked, covered with dirty laundry and old newspapers, so there's no way in except through Jake & Judith's room, but that's where the mess is deepest.

Got a lot of work ahead of me. Five bucks an hour.

♦ ♦ ♦

Taking a brief break in the kitchen, I sat in one of Judith's chairs., and broke it. It was an 'arty' chair, one of a set of four that's now a set of three. Instead of having four legs like a logical chair, it's the letter L on top of the letter C. You sit on the L, with the C under you. It's very lovely, but what do you suppose happens when a fat man sits on such a chair?

The aluminum tubing of the C couldn't take my weight, and suddenly buckled, dropping my flabby ass to the floor. I apologized to Judith, and she told me not to worry about it. I wish it hadn't happened, but there's no embarrassment. Some chairs are so stupid they deserve to doe.

From Pathetic Life #15
Tuesday, August 15, 1995

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

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