Pictures from My Domestic Life

I am painfully aware that you do not care about my domestic life. And why should you care about my domestic life? It's not like you're some kind of creepy stalker who likes to sit behind the computer screen and take careful notes on the bizarre entries that constitute my boring life...right?

Nonetheless, I told you I'd put up pictures of the apartment which I have re-crafted with my own cunning and ingenuity. It's very typical of apartments you find in Phnom Penh, so feast your eyes on all my stuff.

This is the kitchen. You may notice it's very small. The door leads to the bathroom.

If I bother to cook, I do it here. It's a 6 foot cube of compressed struggle when I do that, though. You know, the rats can get in through this window, so I have to remember to close it after I cook.

You may notice there's no sink in my bathroom (which is also a part of my bedroom).

It may look like a nice bed, but I own no sheets. Or blankets. Nor can you see all the epic naval battles and dinosaurs from this angle. Too bad.

If you step out of the bedroom, you find yourself in the hallway.

My other bed. The scarf in the window says, "Supreme". Because I am supreme.

I make no claim upon the wicker table and sofa nor do I own it's pillows. They belong to the landlady who told me I'd die if anything bad happened to them. Exactly what I wanted! The rest of it I bought, though.

A terrible idea.

The "other chair" and "other table" and "other shelves". They serve no purpose, they just take up room so I don't feel neurotically empty and lonely.

The view from my balcony.

And what apartment would be awesome without an upstairs?

Lol, a stand for a small shrine. It was covered with mud when I first came.

My other other bed. You can sleep here. You may notice the ghetto-style screen covering the ventilation window. I made it myself, since they were just going to throw the unused screening away. NO MOSQUITOES SHALL ENTER.

The "gross bathroom". There are two shower heads, and the water heater doesn't actually work.

You get a view from the upstairs.

Feel free to disagree, but I think it's awesome.

Oh, and...you just wasted 3.5 minutes of your life. XD

Prevent Animals from Flying around Your Apartment! Get a Screen!

Two months after moving into my new place, it is finally finished. Today, some guys came by and put a screen over my ventilation window. Now the mosquitoes can't get in as much, nor can the geckos, which like to sit on the wall and poop onto my things. I can finally host guests at my place once more!

It was kind of strange, though. I had someone call a business that puts screens over ventilation windows; they had to come by to measure the window and I had to hide so that they didn't see me as a money-laden white person and overcharge me.

Then, this weekend, two fourteen-year-old kids came to my apartment with a metal frame. They then proceeded to comandeer my apartment in order to physically put the screen (like an actual roll of metal screening) in the frame. They hadn't brought anything to cut the screen with, so they had to use my only kitchen knife.

Then they proceeded to try to put it on, except that they didn't have a ladder. What kind of home-improvement business doesn't have a ladder? They tried to argue that they should put it on the inside of the window (which, to me, is ugly and can let outside debris build up on the sill). Anyway, progress was temporarily impeded while we searched around for a ladder from the neighbors and/or landlady.

Anyway, $35 will get you one of these for your ventilation window:

Prevent Dengue Fever! Get a screen!

Now that everything is all in order, I'm going to clean this place up and try to show you some pics of the apartment I have re-awsomed with my own hands and ingenuity.

Housekeeping

Hello my dear readers.

It may seem as though I have disappeared off the face of the map for the last week or so. And basically I did.

I told you about my new apartment, and how it isn't nearly as great as I kept psyching myself up for it to be. Well, I had to spend the last ten days restoring it to the glory I had dreamt it to once have had.

Just like Mars, the whole thing was covered in red dust. With a scrubber and a sponge in hand, and tile cleaner in bucket, I launched an all-out assult on the walls of filth around me. I don't know how the previous tenants had lived like that: orange-brown liquid rolled down the walls, running into filthy-looking pools on the floor. By the time I had washed and rinsed all the walls, I saw that they were made of white (not beige) tile. And shiny! I then scrubbed the grime out of the kitchen, to discover that it was lined with the same white tile. The same for my bedroom. Man, I was even scrubbing the ceiling--yes, it too was filthy. I could even taste the filth in the soapy, mouse-turd-laden water that dripped repeatedly into my face and mouth. Then it was time to mop up the floor.

I don't know if the previous tenants had ever cleaned it once during their time there, if the wall paint that easily melted off the tiles was any indication.

All this scrubbing took me several days--it felt good to actually be able to use my body after a year of literally lying around doing nothing. My cleaning frenzy was also briefly interrupted by an illness...I don't know what it was, but I managed to develop a fever (with no other symptoms) as I came home from the store one night. Given that I developed diarrhea later that night, I can only assume it was something I ate...and it left me with an aching stomach for three days, thereby causing me to call off the cleansing mission during that time. I blame the ranitidine for that incident.

After cleaning was over, I still had nothing in the apartment. Just an old bed frame and mattress. A stinky fridge and an old TV on top of it. That's it. I had to put my blankets over the mattress in the absence of a sheet. Lying in bed with my stomach grumbling and aching, I realized how incredibly depressing it all was:

• I possessed nothing but the junk-filled plastic bags on the floor
• There was no hot water
• There were rats in the ceiling
• Everyone could see in through my front door
• The washing machine didn't work
• There was no way to keep the disease-ridden mosquitoes out
• It was located right across from a welder's--it was just like the constant obnoxious home improvements that plagued me throughout the month of November, except it would never go away.
• And now there was nothing soft to lie on, even in illness. Not even a pillow.

Had I screwed this new apartment thing up or what?

So I had to spend the next several days re-awesoming the apartment.

I managed to get a wicker sofa and chairs and small table from the landlady. I put the TV on a pretty cloth and hooked it up to the PlayStation. I bought some wicker shelvery and a small desk to keep the water cooler on. I put stuff in the fridge, and bought some pretty mats to keep more dirt from getting tracked in. I stored things in expensive new plastic containers from Paragon. I printed some epic pictures of dinosaurs, ships, and naval battles and taped them on the walls of the bedroom.

Now my bedroom is cozy (except for the lack of pillows). The living room is still somewhat less cozy, but I suspect that a futon and throw rug will go a long way towards improving this. The kitchen is functional, and so is the bathroom (except I miss having a sink and hot water. And toilet paper).

I still haven't managed to touch the upstairs, however. There are still no screens on the windows, and people can still see in through my front door. And the sawing and drilling coming from the welder's at 7 am is permanent.

BUT NOW--my landlady is talking about selling the building...so should I even bother to care? Should I even make any further efforts? Makes me wish I hadn't wasted a week re-awesoming this place at all. Fuck.

Oh Crap.

I made a mistake in thinking my new apartment was gonna be so awesome.

It was awesome by virtue of the fact that it was cozy, and it was cozy because it was filled with furniture and people.

Other apartments have all been furnished; I assumed this one was the same.

NOPE! I walked in on the evening of 1 January 2012 after returning from Siem Reap only to discover that the Grinch had apparently raided my apartment, leaving behind nothing in the house...but a crumb that was even too small for a mouse!

Also, a few cockroaches living in the gas stove top, and a lot of dirt and orange dust on the floors, the walls, the balcony, and appliances.

To top it off, I was told I was being charged for gas and cable and expected to pay that night.

It was then that something inside me broke inwardly. I wanted to burst into tears for the second time in 24 hours. I basically traded everything for nothing.

I retreated to the rooftop at my guesthouse, where I tried to get a hold of myself...I told myself that this way, I can make the apartment up any old way I want to! I can clean it, refurbish it, buy new stuff, decorate it, and make it the best apartment EVER!

...right?