HOUSEMATES

I cannot believe that I thought nobody was reading this, and now I'm getting *whined* at for not posting for a couple of days.

To tell you the truth, nothing all that exciting has happened. Or, well, that's not strictly accurate, but nothing has happened that really sounds interesting to anyone else.

For example, last night I went over to Matthew's place, and we listened to/watched Elvis Costello stuff that he'd recorded for me, and I had the most lovely evening I've had in a long time, which is saying a lot, since I've just had some very nice days and evenings. So although that was very happy and terribly exciting for me, there's not really much to say about it to anyone else.

In case I haven't mentioned it today, Matthew confuses me.

Mostly my life lately has revolved around my housemate's idiocyncracies. The main thing is that he has fits if you touch anything, especially if you touch anything without having been given lengthy instruction in how to touch it properly. So the TV in the living room, and stereo, and all of that sort of thing are strictly off limits. You get the idea.

I try to stay out of his way as much as possible for reasons I won't go into here, but if you really want to know, email me and I'll tell you about them.

Anyway, so I stay in my room until he is gone for the day, which is usually about 9:30 am. He thinks I'm asleep all that time, so I have to be very quiet. If I make noise, he knows I'm awake and will want to talk to me. On weekends and other days off, I wait for him to be finished in the bathroom, and then I emerge and take my turn.

The problem with this is that on weekends he likes to fill the bathtub with hot water at about 9:00, and then just leaves it there until almost noon. So waiting until he is finished in the bathroom can be an all-day affair.

The other thing is that he leaves laundry in the washer and/or dryer at all times. So when I need to do laundry, I have to wait until he is out of the house, then sneak his stuff out, wash my clothes, and sneak his stuff back in so that he doesn't find out I've done it. Weird, I know, but bizarrely necessary. It has to do with his whole "touching" thing, and about the fact that he doesn't like doing anything that he wouldn't have to do if he didn't live alone, you know, like removing laundry.

And there's this thing with the milk--I used some of his milk one day for tea, and bought a new container later in the day, and let him know that I'd used it. So now when he goes to the store, he wants me to pay for half of the milk. He uses a lot of it, and I don't use any, so this is becoming quite an expense. I mean, he drinks/eats (cereal) about a quart a day, and if I use any at all, which is rare because I've tried to stay away from tea, then it's just a few tablespoons.

The latest is that the band he is in is in the middle of a huge falling-out. What makes this difficult for me is that my best friend here in the UK is probably Sarah, who is the wife of the band's guitarist. She and her husband, Martin, are two of the best people in the whole world--they're the sorts that you could call from the airport at 4 am, and they'd come and pick you up. They have done lots of things for me, like taking me out when they knew I was feeling stressed out or depressed. And they've never once treated me like, "get over it, already."

Anyway, so the band in question is a soul-jazz band. A little poppy but very much on the jazz side. Martin's style is very laid-back, and the same can be said for the bassist. Peter, my housemate, likes to get out there and "rock and roll," which involves a lot of jumping about and shouting, and it honestly affects his playing.

The drummer is new every week, so his opinion doesn't really enter into this. They are constantly trying to find a decent one.

At any rate, they've been having this stylistic argument *constantly* for most of the time I've been here, and pretty much every time I go back to the house, especially for the week after a gig, Peter asks me if I agree with Martin/the bassist, and I try really really really hard not to get involved.

There is no way I'm going to take sides in an argument between my housemate and my closest friend's husband.

Anyway, it's tiresome. Peter took extra days off this last week, which meant that I had to deal with more of the bathtub nonsense, and then he had friends come over several times, and all they did was kvetch about the band. Grr.

I can't remember if I related this story here or not, but a couple of weeks ago, I was sick, and I got up at 4 am and used the bathroom. Very quietly, you know, because when someone's asleep, one does try to be considerate. Anyway, evidently the flushing toilet woke Peter up, and he talked about this, complaining, for the next 4 days. I found out that he also called Sarah up to complain about this.

Just so you know, if you live with someone, every so often they're going to have to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. It just happens.

Generally, he stays up until midnight or 1:00 am playing the keyboards really loudly, and then he gets up at 6:30 to get ready for work. The last time he had friends over, they were shouting across the house (one was at the top of the staircase, the other at the bottom) at 6:30 am, after having stayed up late.

So anyway, things aren't terrible, but just annoying enough to remind me why it is that I like living by myself.

And that's about all I've been doing for the past few days--hiding in my room until I can sneak out and do laundry or take a bath, pretending to be asleep so that I don't get dragged into his band conversations with his friends, or rushing away from the house to look for a job and write to people I've done contract work for to remind them that they still haven't paid me.

Anyway, other than that, all I'm doing is coming up with creative ways to live life without spending any money at all. So far it's working rather well, but my month pass at the Internet cafe is about to expire, and, well, if you don't hear from me for a while, it just means that I'm doing all of my job-hunting on the telephone.

I've been checking out the local rags for bands that might be looking for vocalists, but so far all I've really seen were things like Disco Cover Bands, and I don't think I really want to go there.

There was this "free" gig tonight that they mentioned in the paper, but it turns out that it's at a really snooty club, and so not only would it end up not really being free, but I probably wouldn't be let in anyway.

Bummer!

Not sure what I'm going to do now. Peter's going to be home tonight, so I don't want to go there. I'll either find some kind of free show to occupy myself, or see if Matthew's busy. Or maybe Laurence--I haven't talked to him since the weekend. He mentioned that there's this ukelele band that's going to be playing at the pub I met him at, but I don't know when or anything.

Anyway, if something terribly exciting happens, I'll update you, but don't hold your breath.

P.S. WHY did someone think there was a need to do a cover of "I Think I Love You"? Wasn't once enough?! Wasn't once TOO MUCH?!

This is a scary country.

HOSTESS BARS

Oh, a few other things. When we were driving to Brighton, I had another one of those weird deja-vu experiences. The road we were on was exactly like one I dreamed about a few years back. It was bizarre.

Another thing. When Sarah was over at my house, and her husband, Martin, was talking to Peter about band stuff, we overheard them discussing a gig they have been offered at a Hostess Bar.

Evidently, a Hostess Bar is this place where they have women on staff, and men come in and buy them drinks. They order Champagne, which comes at £100/glass or something similarly outrageous. And this is the "arrangement" at these bars.

Neither of the men decided to tell us about this gig--We just sat there making our own plans.

We are going, of course. We have decided that we're either going to tart it up ferociously, or we're going to go really really frumpy and present ourselves as "the alternative."

I still can't decide.

I bought Matthew the most appalling souvenir in Brighton.

SHABBAT AND BRIGHTON

On Friday night, after cleaning up the synagogue, I tried to take a train to the second Messianic Congregation that I was going to try out. The train ride ended up taking over an hour, and then the second leg of the journey was to be a bus. When I got to the train depot after this journey, I checked all of the schedules and discovered that I could not actually get back home before the last train left and still make it to Erev Shabbat services, so I had to turn right back around and go home.

So basically, I just sat on trains for four hours for no reason at all. This just may be the second-most pathetic thing ever. (the penultithetic?)

I think that the *real* problem was that in order to get to this Jewish congregation, I had to travel through both West Ham and East Ham, and let's face it, that is just wrong.

Anyway, I eventually got home, and there was a band rehearsal going on, so I at least got to hear some music, and the night was not a complete failure.

The next day, I slept in, went grocery shopping, and then came home to watch football. (FA Cup Final) I discovered that even in England they have obnoxious and interminal pre-game shows. I've never understood this. I have occasionally watched sporting events in my time, but two hours of "People are going to play football today. People have played football in the past. People will play football in the future. People watch football. People have watched football in the past. People will watch football in the future. Let's talk to some of each of these people" is enough to tax the patience of a much better person than me.

*yawn*

I was rooting for Chelsea, and they lost, by the way. Arsenal won. It was sad.

Later that night, I went over to my friend, Sarah's, and we chatted a bit, and then eventually I went to meet Possibly Laurence and see this band.

Possibly Laurence is at least as fantastic as I initially thought. We had a fabulous evening, and the music was not bad, and the pub where we were had Scrabble and Jenga and all kinds of other games, so we played while listening, and really, it was completely marvellous.

Best conversation of the evening, I think:



Friend #1: "She has a PVC nurse's uniform, you know."

Me: "We are not discussing this. Laurence, would you like something to drink?"

Poss. Laur: "Yes. I'd like a PVC nurse's uniform, please."



All right, maybe you had to be there, but trust me, after two alcoholic beverages, it was hilarious.

Somewhere along the lines, plans were made to go to Brighton yesterday, because I had never been before, and because it is, evidently, the ultimate tacky experience, and everyone felt strongly that I needed to go.

It was *so* much fun. There's this big shopping district, and there's this pier that goes out quite far into the English Channel, and this pier is basically a small amusement park. We shot arrows at things, threw balls at targets, got wet on a water ride, and took the "Ghost Train" which is sort of like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland--you know, very tacky scary "ghosts" in a dark tunnel while you're being whipped around a bit. We also did bumper cars which are called something different here, but I can't remember what.

Evidently, a photo of me in a deck chair had to be obtained, and there's this specific kind of candy that is only sold at Brighton which I had to buy. This was insisted upon as part of the whole tacky experience.

At any rate, we ended up eating chips and a basket of food had been brought along, so we had a picnic on the beach, and it was perfectly gorgeous, and I spent pretty much the whole day laughing.

Then we went shopping, which was actually rather sad because I have no money, and there were soooo many shoe stores.

(You've no idea how broke I am at this point. I have just enough money left so that I can buy a drink or two when I'm out with friends, so that it's not obvious that I am completely flat broke. Now I have just to avoid dinner and movie invitations and anything else that requires money, and I am golden.)

Anyway, then we drove back home and stopped at a pub, and it was warm and yummy and just kind of added to the general happy day.

It was the sort of evening that really called for being wrapped up in blankets and watching bad movies, so I called Matthew, but he wasn't home, so I ended up getting videos from a friend, and called it an evening.

I guess that was about the only melancholy I experienced over the past few days. I was out having a really fun time, and had moments when I thought of Matthew and wished that either he was there, or that he was the one telling me that he wanted to show me places I'd never been, or things that he thought would make me happy.

But those moments were few and far between, and I feel really fortunate to have friends over here who are so considerate to me and so fun to be with.

There are also a few weird moments lately, because there's this guy who obviously fancies me a bit, and it makes me a little uncomfortable. I think that will go away once I'm settled, though, and honestly, if that's the only bad thing in my life...