One of the best things about my apartment has to be the Bleeding Bathroom Walls of Doom. These were an unadvertised feature, included at no extra charge to me. Many are the times when I have walked into the bathroom, only to be happily confronted by the copper-colored streaks of human plasma gushing forth from all around me.

We've all been there, I think.

Actually, I think there is very little supernatural activity taking place in my bathroom. The face of Christ that appears on my toilet seat cover from time to time agrees with me. My walls really are bleeding, but I think the nasty, runny, brown stuff slowly crawling down the plaster is just water, seeping through from the condensation on the rusty pipes inside.

Makes you want to come over and take a shower, eh?

This weekend, after finally getting so sick of the damn bleeding, I decided to wipe down the walls. I've done it before, only to have the brown stuff reappear, which was pretty demoralizing. This time, though, so far, so good. I may have exorcised this demon once and for all.

And, as an added bonus, once I started cleaning, I just couldn't stop. I wiped, I scrubbed, I vaccuumed, I dusted, I dishwashed, I cleansed. I made it a special point to hit the kitchen floor hard, just to eliminate, once and for all, any trace of the garlic incident. My apartment is now free of dust, spiderwebs, dirt, grime, newspaper ink fingerprints near doorknobs, and various odors foul.

I AM A GOLDEN GOD.

Oh, and I have to mention that I know that cleaning one's apartment always come with a bit of risk of bodily harm. This time, instead of being attacked by my mattress, it was the kitchen that exercised it's wrath upon me. I rearranged a stool in the kitchen. This is a stool that I never sit in. I decided to see what the perspective of my place was like from the stool. I sit down, lean back, and am treated to full back-of-the-head/kitchen-cupboard contact. Like the mattress violence that happened last time I cleaned, this is a classic Bill moment.

I'll take either of those, though, compared to the time I accidentally sneezed while standing in my doorway. Fuck, that hurt.

Tonight, Sally and I go see Harry Potter. Tomorrow, she leaves for Cleveburg. Sadness. To compensate, I will stuff myself with a large cooked bird on thursday.

On a final note: AF2000, you are a bastard. You say in your profile that Jonny and I are "pretty much the same."

I kill you.