I drew blood putting on my pants.

And people wonder why I prefer to go pantless at all times.

There’s a lady on our street that has appointed herself Block Commander. She sends out occasional memos with updates and news pertaining to our area, the “ghetto” of North Vancouver. I love reading them – they’re always so cheerful! For instance, June’s memo was about the block party she was trying to organize with clowns and bands and the mayor and popsicles. Fun! Another memo came out yesterday, all about the drug dealers, slum landlords, and prostitution that goes on in our neighbourhood. Hooray! Wait, what?

We all knew there was a problem with a couple of the buildings on our block – owned by the same landlord, he’ll rent to anyone with (or without, apparently) money, and does not care what happens to or on his property. In addition to the drunken idiots and general all-purpose lowlifes, there are two sets of drug dealers – one at the end of the block, and one towards the middle. Talk about convenience! A good 95-99% of all the trouble on the street – the fights, the boot hats, the screaming gangs of roving ninnies, the suicidal teenagers and their angry big brothers – it all seems to stem from either of the two drug dens. It is super. Last Saturday night, there was a big fight in the alley and someone got his head kicked all bloody. Night before last, a “kitchen fire” that resulted in a drugged out lady being taken outside and scolded by 4 fire trucks and 4 RCMP officers before being sent on her merry way. Last night, a cracked out lady of the evening was screeching her way up the block, threatening anyone who looked her way. Super awesome!

For the most part, I ignore all the action except to look outside in interest. The prostitutes are new, though. I think some of the more colourful ladies seen shambling around the properties in question may actually be plying their wares in exchange for some drugs. This sucks. I am not worried about the drunks – I ignore them, they fight amongst themselves, I am entertained for an evening. The macho jocks playing beer can golf – whatever; they’re stupid and full of testosterone, insecurity and beer. The drugs can go away now, though. The gang of tiny teenagers outside our building who were apparently waiting for their dealer to arrive – they can go away now. The crack whores and the customers who use them – please go away now. I do like our apartment, with the snails and our friends and the terrifying tent caterpillar nest outside, but the drug situation is getting out of hand. There is a high amount of traffic on our seemingly innocuous side street, and it’s for the most part all bad. How long can it be before an innocent bystander is dragged into the mix? A drug deal gone wrong? An abusive john? Another (yes, another) murder, or more cracked out women stumbling naked down the street? Maybe suburbia and the American Dream isn’t so lame after all. Urban crime can’t penetrate white picket fences, right?

My brain is melting.

I’ve been working from home for almost three weeks now. I enjoy it for the most part – the air is much less icy here than it was in space – but I find I get a little lonely sometimes. To combat this, I keep the TV on. I can enjoy the previous night’s Daily Show and Colbert Report first thing in the morning and some lovely crime TV in the afternoon, but the in between is making me stupider by the minute. I’m sure there’s something I could leave the TV tuned to that ISN’T Much Music, but extremely old habits die hard. There’s some truly awful music out there. It almost makes me appreciate being past all that.

I finally got a decent desk chair last night, as well as a small workstation the perfect size for my MacBook. I have a pretty good setup here, and it’s pretty comfortable. It doesn’t help that it’s beautiful outside, though. I think I need to move my desk away from the window so I stop having fantasies about running away and scooting to San Francisco.

Hey, why don’t you LOOK AT MY SNAILS !! Scroll down to the bottom for the newest pictures, from yesterday – they’re kind of amazing.

I took a break and spent close to an hour outside, taking pictures of snails. While out there, I came across the tiniest snail I have ever seen:

It is so, so small!

But HOW small, exactly?

Oh, about this small.

SQUEEE! SO IMPOSSIBLY SMALL AND CUTE !!!! I had a hard time putting it down; I wanted to hover over it to make sure it would be okay in the garden. OH, it was so cute. It was so young the shell was translucent! Adorable, tiny, baby, almost-naked snail! YAY!

I am not weird.

It’s absolutely true – I did not expect the Spanish Inquisition.

I was elbow-deep in FAQs and cats when the apartment buzzer rang. I answered it and said hello, but I didn’t get a response – all I could hear was static and Spanish chatter. I assumed they were looking for our drum circle-loving neighbour, as he and his friends speak Spanish at great volumes all the time. I hung up the receiver and went to look out our secret doorstep viewing window – no one was there, so I headed back to my exciting documentation without a second thought.

Then there was a knock at my door. I looked out the peephole and saw a trio of people; two men in pseudo suits and a small girl. The guys looked like Mormons; they were wearing the black pants and short sleeved white dress shirt ensemble. I was busy scanning for the obligatory Latter-day Saint nametag when they knocked again. I wasn’t about to answer the door – I’m naked, naturally – so I treated it like a phone call.

Hello?
Hello! (pretend all this is in a heavy Spanish accent)
*knock knock*
Hello?
Yes, hello!
.. can I help you?
Yes we are looking for the Guillermo family?
Um, they don’t live here
Are you sure?
Yes, I’ve lived here for over a year.
Perhaps they moved?
Probably; they’re not here.
Do you know where they are?
No, sorry.
You don’t know where we can find them?
No, sorry.
Okay, you have a good day!

Wacky. Wonder what they wanted. Did I miss out on being saved, Spanish style?

My left eye has been bugging me non-stop. I really hope it’s psychosomatic, but I am terrified that there are bug eggs hatching all up in my eye goo. Surprisingly, there is not a lot of information on the internet about what to do when a bug goes in your eye or how to tell if you have eggs in there. I am contemplating microwaving my eye somehow to kill anything that might be planning on eating its way out. This sucks ass, and is horrifying.

The more I work from home, the more perks I discover. There are the obvious perks – working naked, rolling out of bed and stumbling to your computer, taking breaks to play with the cats – but I’ve been enjoying some other things as well. Deciding what to have for lunch each day is no longer a chore; we usually have food in the house and if not I can zip out to grab something in the neighbourhood. There’s always Diet Coke and ice here, too. I can listen to anything I like at any volume; I don’t have to answer the phone or deal with other people’s quirks; the atmosphere is a good deal less chilly here than it is at the Space Station. Each day is a new adventure.

Take today, for example. I am wearing a Saran Wrap hat. I decided to take a break and henna my head again, so I mixed up the goo and added some spices and slopped it all on my head. The Saran Wrap – which I am rocking, by the way – it keeping things nice and warm, and soon I will go rinse it all off my head and see how orange I will be for the remainder of August. It is good times. I am loving the flexibility that comes with being able to wear a Saran Wrap Hat while working.

The Eternal SUV was towed away this morning, too. Hooray! Now, if I could just stop freaking out every time my eye itches, I would be a happy duck.

8 hours, almost three hundred kilometers, and several enormous ass marbles later – I have new bras.

I had a very solitary weekend. Saturday was spent scooting solo around the west end for lack of anything else to do (Ed is still sick), while on Sunday I finally caved into necessity and drove myself south of the border for some new bras. It took forever. I did not want to go, but there was a giant sale going on plus I snapped an underwire earlier in the week – it was time. I piled myself into the car (no one wanted to come with me; I wonder why) and drove the hour to the border so I could sit in the lineup for another hour and a half before I got to drive for another hour to go to the store I wanted. It seemed more than a little futile at the time, but I made the most of the day and came away with some new bras, a pair of bell bottoms because I am from the 70’s, a pair of jeans, and some shirts that, now that I am looking down, are a little indecent in the boobal area. Oh, and video games. My Sunday was spent being a rabid consumer, and I only feel a little guilty about it – I needed bras, goddamnit. The rest of my purchases were to soothe my inner savage beast for dealing with the border crossing – an hour and a half each way. It was not fun. I do not want to go to the US again anytime soon, even though I owe Ali a visit.

Last night we attempted to view the meteor shower on top of Mount Cypress. We saw a lot of satellites, some shooting stars, and a few meteors – not as many as we hoped, but it was friggin’ cold up there and the other people who are not us were very annoying. After a couple hours of star gazing we gave up and headed home, returning past midnight which is quite late for us as we are very old indeed. All in all, it was a productive if annoying and cold Sunday. Plus, bras. Hooray!

The rest of the month promises to be busy. On the block are several very fun things, each more entertaining than the last – a scooter trip to Victoria, the PNE, another Richmond Night Market visit, perhaps a weekend trip to Seattle, and more. Somewhere in there some work will get done, and then we’re into September and the Five Slash Ten anniversary celebration. Fun! I love having things to look forward to.

However, it being Monday I am working out of the Space Station today so I suppose I should get back to it with all the enthusiasm I can possibly muster.