From The New York Shitty Photo Pool: Over Here

This vision hails from Green Street and comes courtesy of autovac. On that note, dear readers, I will be leaving you for a bit. Yours truly has had a very lively morning. One which started about two hours before she would have liked with the Mister informing her that the bath tub was backed up. I surveyed the scene and sure enough it was— with some kind of black crud. It looked like English Kills blew chunks. But I digress.

I would like to take a minute to tender my sincerest gratitude to our super, Michael, for remedying this problem. The task before him required variety of (and in one case, improvised) tools and a LOT of good ol’ fashioned elbow grease. Methinks I heard him utter the word “shit” no less than three times. He also called our drain a “bitch” in Polish*. I have to confess I had to suppress a chuckle at that one— but it seemed work: shortly thereafter the drain gave up the “goods”. If you can call such stuff that. Thanks again, Michael. Now if you don’t mind I am off to purchase some Ajax. I can assure you it is sorely needed.

Miss Heather

*Over the years yours truly has, albeit very slowly, learned a little Polish. Currently my vocabulary is limited to the following:

• Good morning
• I do not speak Polish.
• Bitch

Obviously I have a ways to go. Perhaps this will be my project for the remainder of the year? I would really like to thank Michael in his mater lingua. When I exclaimed “Hallelujah” at the sight of that muck going down the drain (where it belongs) he replied “63”. After a little more dialoging I deduced that he thought I was asking him how old he is. Failure. To. Communicate.