Tips for Survival...

I think in situations where you rent, you are supposed to be able to call your landlord when something goes horribly wrong. That dynamic changes slightly when your roommate is your landlord. And surly. And never home at the same time as you.

Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

This is how I found myself on my hands and knees this morning, blow-drying the laundry room rug.

At some point on Wednesday night, while I was out trying not to get intoxicated off of hurricanes, our washer blew up, soaking the rug and filling the wastebasket with water. Odd. I was too drunk to notice Wednesday night. I was too late for work Thursday morning and too tired Thursday night. So I dragged myself out of bed (kind of) early this morning to tackle the problem.

My mother assured me that all I needed was moving air: a fan or perhaps a space heater. Twenty-somethings living en masse do not own these things. We're just moving on to the comforts of extra towels and perhaps a spare pair of sheets.

But, in case something similar ever happens to you, a hair dryer works very well. Also: cats do not like hair dryers. Ferrets do.

Currently, I am eating a sandwich with mayonnaise on it, which I almost never do. Mayonnaise is kind of like oxygen- it doesn't taste like anything, but it makes everything it touches so much better.

Okay, mayonnaise is not really like oxygen at all. No one will die without it and some of us may die earlier because of it. But what a way to go. Mmm...mayonnaise...