I’ve mentioned here couple times how eventful my life can be. Weird occurrences, both good and bad, happen regularly and I am left in complete confusion in regards to ‘what did I do to deserve this?!’
Perhaps this sounds familiar and you find yourself regularly thinking along the same lines. I thought I’d start recording these occurrences in a diary sort of manner here on my blog.
And here’s chapter 1:
The Exploding Shower
It was Saturday morning and for once me and my boyfriend woke up at my place. We usually stay at his place because it’s better heated during winter months but it’s finally warm enough to sleep in my apartment, which is much bigger and, in my opinion, much nicer.
In addition to waking up next to my favourite person at my wonderful home it was SUNNY outside! We hadn’t seen sun for weeks (not kidding). I didn’t care that the sun was shining straight into my boyfriend’s face, but instead rushed to the window to open up the curtains.
Then I galloped to the living room to get the amazing bouquet of flowers that he got me for Valentine’s day and carried them onto the bedroom windowsill for some light of life. While the kettle was boiling for coffee I took pictures of the flowers and the sunshine posting them on Instagram.
I was so happy, everything was perfect: it was Saturday, it was sunny, and all was good.
Because we finally had some light available I immediately assembled some things to photograph on my bedroom couch. When the photographs were taken I went to upload them on my laptop while my boyfriend went to shower.
All of a sudden I heard a noise like half the bathroom falling down and my boyfriend swearing like never before. I couldn’t think of anything that could make such a loud shattering sound, and I couldn’t go and see wtf was going on because he had locked the door.
Finally he managed to shout from among all the swearing that one of my shower’s glass walls had exploded… Qué??
When he opened the door I finally saw what he meant: one of the glass walls had indeed exploded into a billion pieces of thick, sharp glass and he had been in the middle of the rain of glass. Thank goodness he had had his back turned when the wall exploded or otherwise his face would’ve been torn apart. Like, seriously ruined.
He had really deep cuts and scars all over his hands and legs and there was no end to the blood shed. I didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to do except swear like fuck, so we just stood there staring at the destruction. There was glass everywhere.
While my boyfriend soaked his bleeding hands under a kitchen tap I tried to find my landlord’s phone number. But I had a new phone and his number wasn’t saved on my sim card. So, I just sent them an email with pictures of the war zone and the wounded, and hoped they would see it before Monday.
In the meanwhile, me and my boyfriend gathered our things and exited the apartment leaving the mess behind. I just couldn’t think of anything to do, and to be honest I didn’t think that cleaning up the mess was our responsibility at all.
This sort of disasters, of varying degrees I might add, have happened to me all my life so I don’t think there’s anything anymore that could shock me. In this case I was more pissed off about the disruption that a bathroom that resembles a war zone presents in my everyday life than anything else. I wasn’t even surprised. I think I might have even said “Well, of course!” when I saw the mess because I’ve seen it all.
But I was very worried for my boyfriend. He seemed really shocked and I understand why, and the amount of bleeding was definitely unsettling. But I couldn’t help telling him, once again, that as long as he’s with me, shit will keep on happening and he might just have to get used to it, like I have.
I realize that this sort of shit can happen to anyone, but I dare say that shit tends to happen to me extraordinarily often. And I just have to live with it. Like I have to live with the fact that me and my colleague were beaten up by Russian mafia bouncers (I’m unfortunately not even kidding) and the police refused to do anything about it, or that if there’s ever a great storm of any kind it will hit whatever airport I’m at with a 100% certainty. A big reason why I’m scared of flying.
My landlord did get back to me on the same day saying that we should clean up ourselves and they will send someone to fix the wall… I’m so tired of fighting and pointing out what’s okay and what’s not okay, this country has literally drained me out, so on Sunday we went back to clean up.
Looking forwards to the next extraordinary occurrence. Stay tuned! xx