Friday, June 24, 2005

Raul, I am so sorry, but it's just how I am

I’m calling in a maintenance request to my apartment complex, which I hate to do because then Raul will come in and see my messy apartment. [I’ve changed his name in case by some strange coincidence, he happens to read blogs. His name is nothing at all like Raul, which is why I picked it.] Raul is the head maintenance guy at our apartment. We like Raul. Raul is a little bashful and has a perfectly charming accent. He is also on a diet, which for some reason makes him seem even more personable. Me, too, Raul, me too. I also cannot eat the cookies. He also actually fixes things, unlike at my last apartment, where they “fixed” the mold on my window by painting over it.

Raul captured my heart when in one visit to fix the thermostat, he commended me for listening to classical music and then, when leaving, commanded me to lock my door, as if to say “you never know what kind of foul ruffians are about this evening, waiting to do harm to a lovely young woman such as yourself.”

Ok, maybe more like “safety first.” But still.

Anyway, I like Raul so much because he’s the first normal maintenance man that I’ve dealt with (meaning the first one I haven't been nervous about being alone in my apartment with). No, I take that back. In my very first apartment, the head maintenance man was a man named Big Al. Big Al was a (obviously) large, jolly older fellow with a paternal manner and a twinkle in his eye. Big Al had a large belt buckle that said “Big Al.” Big Al didn’t blink an eye when the “H” knob shot off of my sister’s shower and began spewing out hot water.

[That is another funny story. Sis was in my bathroom washing her face while my Best Friend/Roommate was washing her hair in sis’s bathroom. She was leaning over the tub washing it under the spout when the H knob shot off. RR meanwhile, was thinking that she heard something, but it was unintelligible. But it certainly sounded like someone was making a racket. It sounded like maybe someone was calling her name. So she went out of the bathroom and out of my bedroom and into the hall. BF/R shot out of RR’s bathroom, knob and towel in hand and said, very evenly, “Help. Me.” They tried to force the knob back on, but it was no go. Ok, maybe that’s only funny because I know the people involved. Anyway.]

But since Big Al, they were all pretty unsavory types. But Raul is very nice. Once a cat died under our apartment, and he had to go through my closet to get it out. You can imagine my mortification when I realized he’d had to move all my shoes AND my dirty clothes hamper. I was HORRIFIED. I mean, this strange man carrying around my hamper with about 30 pounds worth of sweaters with mystery stains and, oh yeah, my panties. I mean, it’s not like he could see anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking that somewhere in that hamper was my underwear. And also that he probably threw his back out trying to move it, which couldn’t have made a good impression. And the shoe thing. I’m sure he was asking himself as he moved them, “how many pairs of black strappy sandals does a person need?” The answer: as many as you can get.

Anyway, today I have to call Raul and ask him to fix something, but my apartment is messy, and so once again, I will be embarrassed. Raul must not have a very good impression of me anymore. But I have to call today because something is leaking into my bathroom from the floor above. Once RR had a manicurist tell her that just the day before, the bathtub from the apartment above hers had fallen into her bathroom. So now I’m paranoid. This must be fixed, and right away. I need my bathroom. After all, I can’t exactly change clothes in my room, what with all the peeping. So what’s a girl to do? Raul will just have to think I’m a slob. Which is fair, because I guess I am.


jes said...

you slob.

Ben said...

You are a GREAT story teller. You have moved to 4th on my list.

JLR said...

Fourth!? Well, there's no shame in that.

Wait, fourth out of what? Five?

JLR said...

oh. I get it. Right.