What a Drip

Soon after getting my iPhone, one of the first apps I downloaded was a white noise program. Among the 30-odd sounds engineered to lull you into a calmer state of being (including, and I'm completely serious, "Cat Purring" and "Hair Dryer Blowing"), my top five are:

1. Running Water
2. Heavy Rain
3. Beach Waves
4. Stream Water Flowing
5. Running Shower

Sense a trend?

So, the other night I was watching television when I heard “…drip…drip…drip,” which I first identified as a leaky faucet. Not an alarming situation. However, that mild drip turned into the sound of someone pouring a glass of water, and then into a quickly-filling bathtub. Ever on alert, I sprung into action.

I ran to check out what was going on and was startled to see my bathroom ceiling had turned into my own private Niagara Falls. Not so soothing. I started to gather my hand towels, robe and bath mat before realizing that they were already drenched and beyond salvation. (This was not the time for a “Leave No Towel Behind” policy.)

I was at the front door, about to run down to my super’s apartment, when I made a quick K-turn and headed back to my bedroom. It was almost 11 p.m. and I was in pajamas, foot loose and brassiere-free. But even in a plumbing emergency, I don’t take the girls out on the town without buckling them in – you know the saying, “Click it or ticket.” Well, let’s just say I’m a safe driver.

After that quick detour I hightailed it to the basement, where I found my super’s family gazing up at their ceiling. My super lives right below me, so the water had begun to make its way down. I quickly explained what was happening, and the super’s brother (who was filling in while the super was on vacation) followed me upstairs, along with his two sons. It didn’t take long for them to grasp the problem. The super’s brother ran to find the source of the water – a burst pipe, he thought – while the kids helped me assemble garbage cans to catch what water we could.

During the next few minutes, kids, teens and adults roamed in and out of my apartment. While the super’s brother was off exploring, his daughter kept me company. (She came up after the newly-installed basement ceiling hit her when it crumbled due to water damage.) We commiserated until her father returned.

Was it a burst pipe?

No, he said, it’s your upstairs neighbors. They wouldn’t let me in until I yelled that they had a burst pipe that I needed to fix. I opened the bathroom door and found five inches of water around the tub. They forgot they were running the bath.

Fantastic!

Well, I was relieved that it wasn’t a burst pipe, but I was still vowing to give my upstairs neighbors the stink eye every time we passed in the hallway. (More difficult than it sounds – I’ve never seen them, and they don’t seem to open their front door.)

Thirty minutes later I was minus most of the water, after the super’s brother vacuumed it up, the paint was buckling on my plaster walls, and an ominous drip continued to torture me. I was also down two ceiling fixtures. They were filled to the rim with lovely brown water and had started slowly detaching due to the added weight. Here's the one in the hallway abutting my bathroom:

Isn’t that beautiful?

That night I eventually fell asleep to the dulcet sounds of “Frogs at Night.”

In Memoriam

The event of the season – my family’s annual Memorial Day Barbecue – was an unqualified success for several reasons.

1. The rain held off until the last moment, despite some false starts, so that everyone was already leaving when it really came down. It was like the French and fruit juice – when they serve it to you, it’s a sign that the evening is over.
2. We had several adorable children roaming around. It was tremendous fun, even if I was asked when I was going to have one of my own.
3. Lastly, I made a fantastic dessert, a batch of chocolate-dipped frozen bananas. It was the first time I had cooked (or, in this case, dipped) something that people wanted to eat. Most awesome? People even asked me for the recipe! (Thanks, Yum Sugar.)

I usually contribute taramasalada, a creamy Greek caviar dip that I am required, by law, to purchase for parties, since I live in New York’s Greek-est neighborhood. It’s true – you can check my lease.

Preparations for this day-long extravaganza were long and arduous, and involved me going on several shopping runs with my father, making multiple lists, and cleaning my parents’ house top-to-bottom until I collapsed on their living room couch. They thought I was napping, but I’m pretty sure I was in a temporary cleaning-induced coma.

When I saw this at Stop’n’Shop (on our first trip to the store), I suggested we leave a bottle in the guest bathroom:

We don’t have pets. I just thought it would be fun to make people guess who was using it, and why.

What my parents opted to leave in the bathroom, on the tray that sits on top of the toilet tank, was this:
I am not normally a conspiracy theorist, but I have always believed that my parents wait for me to come home to change the toilet paper rolls. I don’t know what they do when I’m not around, but I am always the one who wanders into the powder room to find one lonely 2-ply square of Cottonelle. I decided to send a strong message several months ago by leaving empty toilet paper rolls in both bathrooms with personalized inscriptions on them. They not only thought it was funny, they kept the one downstairs and put it on display for guests. And I still refuse to change the roll.

Cleaning wasn’t confined indoors. My father, brother and I ventured to the backyard to wash all the chairs and tables, which were covered in a winter’s worth of crud.

After so many years hosting the barbecue, we have amassed an extensive collection of plastic seating. I learned something new this time around, after we hosed them down. Wet chairs will turn to face the sun, like flowers:


I voted for telling people they weren’t allowed to move them, but was quickly vetoed. Some people just don’t know how to have a good time.

MOM.

You Should See Aisle 6

I love my local pharmacy. It has a good selection, is quite spacious, and I always find something unexpected.

This is how it is set up:

Aisle 1 – Hair Care
Aisle 2 – Makeup and Skin Care
Aisle 3 – Cold Medication and Vitamins
Aisle 4 – Deodorant and Shaving Supplies
Aisle 5 – Beef Jerky and Pregnancy Tests

I didn’t realize pregnancy cravings started the moment you took the test.

Four Score and 100 CCs Ago

Another month, another treatment.

Sigh.

Don’t get me wrong. I am grateful that my ITP is in remission (or, in solidarity with our economy, it’s in recession), but my CVID is not going anywhere, so I continue to get my IVIG infusions every 30 days.

I just started getting them from my immunologist again, now that my hematologist has released me back into the wild. At my first infusion following the conclusion of my recent platelet craziness, I was given Benadryl and…well, that’s it. I had been getting both Benadryl and a dosage of steroids as pre-meds. Now, I always get headaches and fatigue following infusions, but this last time was different. I thought I had the flu. I was cold, I was hot, I was nauseated, I thought my head was going to explode. In a word: unpleasant.

I called the infusion center and told them I wanted to go back to my old pre-medication combo. They agreed, thank goodness, and on Friday I’ll go in and hopefully come out with some headaches and the urge to crawl into bed, and nothing more.

So, in honor of Limerick Day, which ends at midnight tonight, I wrote this to explain my current state of mind:

There once was a lady from Edison,
Who dreaded taking her medicine.

She hid in her bed,

But eventually said,

"Will taking it make me feel better soon?"

The Cobbler's Children

When I was a kid, my brother and I always complained that my mom would make desserts for everyone but us. She brought them to parties and work events, and even sold them. People loved her desserts. They were delicious! Well, from what I heard, anyway.

As we got older, she got the hint and started making an extra portion for her family. So if she made a large cheesecake, she'd make a mini cake for us, too. Genius! And it stopped us from complaining, which was probably her true goal.

Now I have something to sell – handmade greeting cards. I design invitations and cards for all kinds of events. I get to work with people to create cards that bring their vision to life. It started off as a hobby, and now it’s a freelance hobby that brings in a little pocket cash on the side. Most importantly, I get to have fun and be creative.

A Nancy original.

I developed my skills by making cards for my family and friends. But now that I’m periodically doing bigger orders (I just finished 60 baby shower invitations), I don’t have as much time for one-offs for my favorite people. So they sometimes ask me (jokingly, I think) why I’ve given them a store-bought card. I’m glad that they look forward to getting something I made. But from conception to production, an original design can take days. It’s a process that I enjoy…but it doesn’t allow me to churn out cards every day.

And boy do I feel guilty about that! I actually called my mother last week and said, “Listen, for Mother’s Day…I’m not making you a card. Ok?” And she didn’t care. But I did. If you can’t use your creativity for the people you love, what’s the point?

Wait – I hear the call of the glitter, glue dots and paper trimmer. They are telling me it’s time to bust out a new card.

Think Pink

I saw this sign at my parents’ local supermarket, and I’m still not sure if I made the right choice by passing it up:

Sure, I could have afforded to spend three dollars in support of cancer research. And I do have a soft spot for a nicely grilled frank. But honestly, I’m not ready to bring home a random Poland Spring employee and some lottery scratch-off junkie.

I only have a one bedroom apartment – I just don’t have the room!

To Whom It May Concern

Every day I get a lot of spam e-mails, most of which offer me Viagra. However, there are a small percentage of cryptic messages that tantalize me. I don’t have the nerve to click on the links – I’m too scared of downloading a virus and wrecking my precioussssssss (laptop, that is). Instead, I try to figure out what they’re telling me based on the subject line.

This is the current batch I’ve been pondering for the last week or so:

Re: Sale 70% OFF on Pfizer
The economy is so bad that large pharmaceutical companies are now selling themselves to the first buyer on the Interwebs.

Re: Think of your age once more. You can change it.
Brought to you by the Amazing Kreskin and Tony Robbins – they'll guess your age and make you think your way younger!

Re: Disgusting Hoffman's act
Not a family friendly show – and not nearly as popular as the above.

Re: support your darling couch adventures
Slap some wings on that sectional, and it sounds like the basis for the next Hayao Miyazaki film. Just putting it out there, Mr. M.

Re: Your little friend down there is too young to retire.
A joint advertisement for Viagra and Monster.com.

Re: Passengers: Your Captain Has Screwed Up
Have I mentioned my fear of flying? This is one announcement I never want to hear.

Re: Keeping Up With the Kremplers
I saw this sitcom. It featured Sandy Duncan…

Re: Become independent from the circumstances that influence your vigor?
I believe this is a direct translation from a Russian novel I read last year. Next sentence, “I, Boris, am strong like bull. Here, drink vodka!”

Re: It's Talkfication Time
As someone who was voted the "Most Talkative Female" in her senior high school class yearbook, I would like to know more about Talkfication Time.

Re: Yammer to Keep it Together
Like “Talkfication Time,” this interests me greatly.

Re: Forgive me and answer.
You can’t make me forgive you, so forget about demanding an answer.

Re: I need you to answer!
No apology this time? It didn’t work yesterday, and it’s not going to work now.

Re: Your device is so tiny she barely finds it in bed?
Clearly, this is a private conversation between two men, one of whom has told the other about a sexual problem he and his girlfriend have been having. I just think it's a shame that his friend responded with his question in the subject line. Why not couch something so delicate in gentler terms, like "RE: Device Location Assistance"?

Re: You should be ashamed!
I am. Trust me on this one.