Rumbling my way amidst a few
earthquakes this past month throughout Southern California, I didn’t mind the
tumblers so much as the one that jolted me out of bed.
After all (if I may speak broadly on behalf of Los Angelinos), we’re
generally accustomed to the occasional ground quiver now and again and tend to
pay little attention to anything that doesn’t shatter glassware. But woken abruptly by a seismic tremor as I
watched all the Mardi Gras beads on a closet door flap willy-nilly to their own
New Orleans rhythm? Well (and no offense
to my deceased black kitty of course, who crossed my path a million times),
this particular quake seemed to bode a bad omen…
Sure, there might be aftershocks,
but if “THE BIG ONE” hits, most of us are relatively prepared. In fact, I for one, have TWO kinds of peanut
butter (Creamy and Extra Crunchy) as well as an emergency can of Van Camp’s
“Beanee Weenee” to trade to fellow survivors (God knows I don’t eat chicken hot
dogs, but I failed to properly read the label when I bought it); plus toilet
paper, water and a back-up bottle of vodka!
But miffed at the interruption of my
beauty sleep, I pleaded to my swaying bat cave “I’m still on hiatus!!!” as the
Earth quietly settled itself.
>>><<<
Now, as well as one can be prepared
for natural disasters, I must say that I was decidedly NOT EQUIPPED to watch an
episode of a reality show on cable called “Hoarders”.
DEAR GOD!!!!!!
Sure, I’d seen a few clips here and
there before (which perfunctorily inspired me to take out my recyclables!); but
attempting to watch this particular episode, I seriously thought I was going to
blow chunks…
And with lightning speed in my bat
cave, I barreled into the kitchen to take out a bag of the usual trash. Granted, it wasn’t brimming over the edge or
anything, but still, I had to get it out of my home!
And settling in for another five
minutes of the show, watching in horror as the owner was apparently sleeping on
top of pizza boxes, I bolted out of the room and rushed one (of two) recyclable
containers to the proper bin (every speck of paper and cardboard, including
crossword puzzles and empty rolls from Bounty paper towels)!
Feeling significantly better about
the cleanliness of my home, I believe I made it through all of three more
minutes of “Hoarders” until a drawer of used diapers were revealed, as well as
human excrement atop a non-flushing toilet.
And like THAT, I
was DONE!!!!!!!!!
Barreling once again into my kitchen
to discard the other half a bag of more recyclables (aluminum and plastics); I
was horrified to discover some gunky
brown seepage on the floor. (WTF???)
With all diet 7-Up cans hurriedly tossed
in the bin outside, I surveyed the situation, trying to maintain a level head. After all, I rinse out everything, and when
the heck did I ever have anything sticky and goopy that could have formed such
a horrendously thick oozing caramelized puddle?
But donning my “Barney Fife” cap (Google him, kids), I ascertained that
in the throes of one of our recent earthquakes, a tiny plastic container of
God-knows-what from God-knows-when had toppled over in my pantry, splattering
its guts all over the inside of the laver door and was drizzling down the wood
like some sort of prehistoric ectoplasmic residue.
And with the “Hoarders” marathon still
blaring on the television in the other room, I immediately took to task to
scrub down everything with Mr. Clean Magic Erasers until every single tile was
sanitized.
Ironically (as we Southern Californians
are supposed to maintain our Earthquake kits), I peered into my pantry to see
just how many of my canned foodstuffs might have been affected. Most of them looked untouched (the spillage occurred
on a lower shelf), and walking back to the TV, I observed a woman hoarding
chickens, who had eggs all over her “home” (some
of which were half-hatched), whilst various species of vermin scurried
about her “kitchen”…
Now, while I said
I was “DONE” before, NO!!! This time, I was
OFFICIALLY DONE!!!
Whether or not the foodstuffs
deserved it -- frankly, I didn’t give a crap (no pun intended!) about the shelf
life of corn nibblets in the moment -- as EVERYTHING had to go! Jell-O pudding packs with a layer of dust on
the boxes? Toss! Canned refried beans I’ve kept for over two
years? Toss! A tin of water chestnuts? (Seriously,
water chestnuts??? In just what delusional
decade did I plan to buy a wok and learn how to stir-fry???) Toss!
And lugging approximately four plastic
bags of unopened inedible food out of the house (hey, full tin cans are heavy, and I wasn’t about to open and release
any potential flesh-eating bacterial spores in my home!), I finally felt at
ease.
>>><<<
OK, sure, my stay-up-late and wake-up-early elderly Eastern European
(?) neighbors who leave their front door open when it’s warm outside may suspect me of dismembering a corpse
in the middle of the night. (I have to
walk past their apartment on the way to the gated trash bins.)
And yes, perhaps I could have chosen NOT to wear a t-shirt usually reserved
for at-home hair coloring which happens to have multitudes of permanent blood
red stains dripping down the neck, sleeves, shoulders and back…
But in my defense, must I constantly
witness my neighbor standing outside at all hours, who randomly sweeps the
sidewalk shirtless??? EEK! (Dude, spend a dollar or two, and treat your
lovely wife by turning on your air conditioning once in a while!)
>>><<<
Whether or not my neighbors might
deign me an axe murderer, and whether or not any more aftershocks would rock my
world, I was still on shaky ground.
Despite the fact that approximately
23 million Americans are unemployed, the EDD (Unemployment Department) had once again selected me for a delightful
telephone interview regarding my residual checks. I’d been notified in advance that I’d be
called between 1 and 3pm yesterday, so having spent the weekend placing all of
my paperwork on the coffin table for quick reference when the landline rang, I
knew I would be prepared for anything.
And contacting me at 2:45pm (thanks
for being so prompt!) I sat patiently through all the questions, confirming
FOUR times, that I’d not received a check until September 13th, as residuals
are sent to the Union, and thus may take months for me to ever see them. “So, SPE cut you a check on June 23, but you
didn’t get it until when?”
Oh, for the love of God… What
am I, the FIRST Actor in Hollywood EVER???
YEESH!
“Well, since you haven’t filled out
the forms for that week yet” (withheld
from me during my inquisition) Rodney informed me (after a few minutes of telephone muzak while he conferred with his
supervisor); “you’ll probably be OK.
I just need to confirm your story with the payroll company” he added,
with all due bureaucratic empathy.
“Probably???”
Well, that’s a fat
load of comfort, thank you very much!
>>><<<
Meanwhile, I’m mostly looking ahead
to going back to work on Monday.
I have no idea what to expect from our new Director for the first three
episodes (whom I’ve heard can be a bit, um, volatile),
but my fingers are crossed that the earth will stop shaking beneath me.
Wish me luck!!!
With enormous gratitude and
appreciation for my summer vacation,
~Back-to-the-grind P
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