Sunday, May 9, 2010
Good Sunday Morning to you
See that beautiful woman in the picture? That's me. Best picture I've ever taken in my life. I guaran-dang-tee you that is NOT how I look in the morning. Not at all. No. Uhn uh. Not even close. Can I have an amen?
Morning, Sunday. 0700 I agreed to help my dear friend Ramon with the selling of his stuff as he prepares for the next chapter in his travelog. We've known each other for years and in two countries, neither of which is our own. I'm not really looking forward to his leaving, but a promise is a promise, and at the end of the day, I want to make his leaving as easy as possible for him. Even so, you might say I'm dragging my ass a bit. It's Sunday morning for goodness' sake! *sigh*
Living in a goshiwon is a lot like living in a dorm... with a bunch of people who don't speak my language and who have strange food habits (to me) and who are quiet and then screechingly loud at unnervingly odd intervals. There is Mrs. Bossy, who thinks that yelling at me in Korean will make me understand her, Divorced Mrs. Kim who believes George Bush was a great president... because he's a Christian. All righty then. And the manager who is always trying to get me to drink soju or makolay with him. He was drunk once and thought it would be a good idea to tickle me and then to corner me so he could pour his soul out to me. I hate being around drunk people. Imagine what it's like around drunk people who don't speak your language. Patience, young Skywalker, patience.
Sunday morning. Right. So I'm taking my draggy butt to the bathroom, necessitating leaving my room and going down the hall when I run into Miss Oddball. Now y'all know that if *I* think she's odd, we're talking serious strange. A bit of background on Miss Oddball. I have tried in my friendly way to say hello (in Korean and English), offered her half of my lunch - she's emaciated poor dear, and just generally tried to be pleasant without words. She always walks away, head down, shaking her hand at me. Yeah, she's odd. She showers in the morning. No, that's not the odd part. The odd part is she showers with the door open, hunkered down, with all her clothes on, and instead of using the shower, she pours water into a bowl, then pouring it over her hair and such proceeds to clean herself in front of G*d and everybody. Odd.
Generally speaking, I wouldn't care about this odd behavior (maybe she's claustrophobic?), but she uses the one ladies' shower that actually is a shower. The other stall's shower feature doesn't work. So in essence she and her clothed bird bath take up both the women's showers, and woo, we get a bird's eye view. *I don't watch, I wait in my room... and usually shower at night to avoid her. I prefer that anyway, but there is the odd morning when I wake up all sweaty (see how I slid in that word "odd" with a different meaning? Heh. I'm clever).
So Miss Oddball sees me Sunday morning (you thought I'd forgotten, didn't you?), and actually laughs at me in my pajamas. My pajamas are brown with pink polka dots, spaghetti straps. Shirt and pants. Very respectable. Ok, so a lot of decolletage shows, but unless I wear a turtleneck, that is par for the course. So there she is, Miss Bird Bath Oddball, laughing at me. Don't do that when I've just gotten up, had no coffee, and gotta pee like a race horse.
I believe my response to her snortaciousness was as follows: Yeah, right. Like you got room to talk, sister. You shower with your clothes on. Pfffffffffffft.
Thank goodness she doesn't speak English.