La Nuit Blanche

Right now, I am packing my things into boxes. I’m moving to another apartment in another neighborhood in a few days, yipee! Into a sleek new modern building, where there is always hot water, and 24 hours of heat during the winter, and an elevator, and sound-proofing between floors, and light fixtures that won’t come toppling down over my head, and a refridgerator with a door that doesn’t fall off its hinges, and a kitchen sink where the knobs aren’t set backwards, and a bathroom where the ceiling won’t cave in…

Oh yes. I haven’t told you about my bathroom adventure a few weeks ago. There was a leak in the ceiling, the evil landlady refused to fix it, I called the city to report it, the landlady ignored it, and a couple days before the city officials were due to come for an inspection, the ceiling smashed onto the floor.

My Lover and I were cuddling on the loveseat, picnicking on a feast of wine, olives, cheeses, Greek dolmas, pickled onions, marinated sun-dried tomatoes, strawberries dusted with sugar, dulce de leche icecream, and sweet bread dipped in the most delicious olive oil, not paying much attention to the movie for watching each other play and eat. We were celebrating the sixth month anniversary of the day we met… And then plop! and crash!. It was a wet, gooey, dusty affair.

I thought of suing the witch this time at last, and then setting her hair on fire. I did that. Several times! In my sweetest daydreams.

This beautiful historic mansion was lovely for a while, but I’ve learned my lesson. Convenience over beauty, when it comes to living quarters, is, regrettably, essential for any human being. I am done with this madhouse. Lars von Trier could have filmed his “Element of Crime” right in my living room. And “The Kingdom” in the lobby and stairwells. I swear this building is haunted…

I’ll be packing my tango shoes into a separate valise, and carrying them with me in the cab ride to the new apartment. Just in case my gorgeous babies get damaged, you know. You never know.