A Bad Ending to a Good Day

Splish! Splish! Splish! Splish!

Each step leaves a foot-shaped puddle of water that quickly reabsorbs into the hall carpet as I shuffle tired and grumpy into the kitchen to make coffee. I don’t think I ever fully appreciated the functionality of a bath tub overflow drain. Until now.

However, I do have a new appreciation for the genius of elevated floors, as the sight of water cascading down the sloped tiles that form the transition from bathroom to bedroom is indeed a beautiful sight, even if it did launch me into a complete frenzy of futile behaviors involving towels and a squeegee.

In the wake of last night’s flood, one might suppose I would have made peace with the unlikeable drain in my bathroom floor. Unfortunately, I keep it covered with a bath mat. While this does prevent the intermittent discharge of disagreeable odors, it renders it completely useless as an escape route for the 30+ minutes of forgotten bathwater that breached the confines of the bathtub while I was immersed in the ‘absolute final last director’s cut, and I really mean it this time, unless I run out of money or think of something else I can do to ruin an otherwise perfectly lovable movie’ version of Bladerunner.

Sydney is a particularly moldy city. Fortunately, the humidity of summer has eased somewhat in the last few weeks, so I am disproportionately hopeful that the bottoms of the closets will dry out before a thick growth of mildew takes root.

Note to self: Don’t store toilet paper on the floor.


On the lighter side, Kevin and I discovered yesterday that we can walk to the beach! Granted, it is a 6.5 km 2 hour walk, but doable nonetheless. We might have done it quicker, but Military Road is lined with myriad interesting shops and restaurants, all of which required my scrutiny.

Balmoral Beach is a clean and quiet cove on Middle Head (not to be confused with North Head or South Head) in Sydney Harbour. This suits me well, as I can pretend I am swimming in the ocean only there are no dangerous waves or undertows. We picnicked on a low stone wall beneath a giant fig tree.

Nothing creates a feeling of belonging so much as running into someone you know in a remote location. As Kevin and I discussed the astronomical odds of seeing our friend Gerry on that beach, we did instead encounter one of his associates from work. Perhaps not unexpected, as he is known to frequently patrol that particular stretch of beach in search of accommodating skank, using his young children as bait.

Fortunately, a convenient bus route connects Balmoral Beach to our neighbourhood, thus sparing us the 6 km return walk. Regardless, I was in desperate need of a bath by the time we made it home…