El estado del techo

I'm alone in my apartment this week while my roommates Roger and Xavi are on vacation in Portugal.  Last night, I was minding my own business, watching the latest episode of "Weeds," when I heard a noise in the apartment.  The walls are especially thin here, but I was sure it was coming from inside.  So I grabbed a screwdriver to fend off my attacker, thinking of how I would stop him dead in his tracks with a glimpse of my weapon and a witty Charlie's Angels-type line like, "Don't screw with me, hombre."  But instead of a ladrón, I saw the kitchen ceiling about to collapse, and BOOM, 3 seconds later I was screaming as all the drywall and lights fell to the floor.  Right after I placed a frantic call to my roommate, the upstairs neighbors came down to make sure I wasn't buried in the rubble, and we had a nice little chat.

In the morning, the door woman and a repair man came to clear out all the debris and install a temporary light.  No problem, except for a nice coating of asbestos on all our pots and pans.

Later today, I took more pictures with my photographer/student, who claims he's going to add a few to his portfolio to see if I can work with him if one of his clients needs someone in the fall.  I felt very glamorous for a few hours, with the studio and screens and flashing lights.  Then, I immediately came home to find that the bathroom ceiling, too, had collapsed.  So, still in my photo shoot dress, I put on rubber gloves and began picking up big chunks of ceiling out of the toilet.  Needless to say, the glamourous feeling didn't last long.

At any rate, I'm going to Sicily on Friday to visit Giulia for two weeks, so I can deal with any collapses, floods, fires, or ghosts for two more days. 

And no, Mom, I'm not coming home.  Not yet, anyway.