Under the carpet and into the fire

I am tired of sweeping things under the carpet.

In an effort to get things out in the open, I decided to do a little
house cleaning and celebrate my return to LA after a month with a
home improvement project. True, I don't have a "home" in that I
still rent an apt. They raised my rent. I asked for new rugs.
They said no, but you could rip up what you have and live on the
concrete.

Easy enough.

Whoever invented wall to wall carpeting was an idiot. This simple
project has turned into a 3 day project, but well worth it once I
discovered exactly what I have been ignoring. There was a mini beach
under my rug. Not to mention the disintegrating padding.

This was war and I was ready.

Just not for the little strips of wood nailed to the floor with
millions of little nails. Most of my two days of work so far
consisted of prying up these boards, but there was no turning back.
I doubted again if this would improve the look of my apartment and
tried to envision the cocoa paint on the floor. My home all in
shambles, I could not sleep well that night.

The night before I dreamt that a kitten crawled out of my
bookshelf. During one of my trips to the dumpster, a little kitty
poked his head around the corner and later was waiting for me outside
my door. No, I will not get a cat. Really. Nor is it an omen that
I need to have children. Perhaps it is the surprises that will come
out of the cleaning and renovations. Like the surprise stories from
my mother as we cleaned out old pictures.

For instance, looking through her yearbook she wondered what happened
to Christopher Columbus Holmes. She reminisced about how polite and
kind he was to her and he used to watch out for her on the walk
home. He had a crush on me but was so shy and such a gentleman. I
come to see his picture and was honestly shocked to see that he is
African-American. Not that I find that shocking, but I immediately
remember my mother's shock and doubt and resistance when I was dating
someone who is African-American. "He was so nice, but in those days
it wasn't really accepted to date other races." I wanted to remind
her of her own prejudice of this past boyfriend, but held my
tongue. Instead she continued, "He was so smart. Oh, i don't
remember that he sang, it says he was a good singer. I wonder what
happened to him." I google him, but don't have any luck narrowing
down the many hits for Christopher Columbus Holmes and eventually
give up as I have little to go on.

So far, though, this project has left me with only a cleaner
apartment and the musty smell I no longer really noticed in the
closet is gone, and a chic rug free look, and many aches throughout
my body. No hidden kittens.

However, my first day of labor, after showering, my shower faucet
broke. I couldn't turn it completely on or off and only steaming hot
water would come out. It took a day for the handy man to come out.
Yet, while waiting, my building manager gave me a key to the sauna.
Yes, sauna (not jacuzzi). I didn't know we had a sauna in the
building. There is a shower in there, too, which she said I could
use if my shower is not fixed in time (she's been keeping tabs on my
project progress and noticed how grungy I was, I am sure). So,
tomorrow, perhaps, I will go lounge in the sauna and sweat out some
toxins, aches, and maybe even an extra pound or two. I think once
school begins, the sauna will be getting even more regular use.