The Coldest Winter

The Rocker Kids are gone, but their legacy lives on (like Foreigner’s?).

Im sitting in the bungalow bundled up in sweats. My blood has apparently thinned to the point where I am cold in 55 degree weather. Chilly. How does this happen so quickly that I undergo physiological changes making me into an Angelino. I don’t know – let me call my life coach and ask her (not!).

But its chilly, and we have no gas til Monday. It will be about a week, all in, with no gas. There is a small space heater in the Bungalow that Mike and I leave in the hallway between the bedrooms, but its cold. These are not the most significant fallout from the lack of heat (and neither is the fact that the dryer is somehow half-gas and half-electric, so it spins the laundry without really drying the laundry).

It’s the shower. No hot water.

I’ve been showering all week in a shower with no hot water. No luke warm water. Nothing like that. Just cold.

Undertake an experiment for the sake of science. Go into your bathroom, and turn on the cold water in the shower. After disrobing, get into the cold water and see how long it takes before you begin to shiver and drool on yourself. If you make a minute, well, you’ve more constitution than me.

I get in there, and steel myself. I try to take showers in less that one minute, because there is a mirror across from the shower, and the sight of me shivering and drooling in the shower, well, it doesn’t swell any part of my being with pride (not that parts of my being, er, are swelling whilst a shower). I gave myself a crew cut this week to speed up the shower process, though people who’ve made films with me know I am likely to do that anyway before starting production on a film.

The gas turns on Monday, so I have only a few more cold showers to which I can look forward. Then its back to the monotony and comfort of normalcy.

On the positive side, the crew of migrant workers that has been retrofitting the house, bungalow and surrounding grounds back to humanity is almost done. They were slow, but I think they’ve finally run out of time. The junk is 90 percent gone, and though there are some construction materials spread around the grounds, I think most of them are getting discarded today. We are actually fairly close to realizing the vision I had of the place when I took it, and Mike and the new house tenant (adults all, rockers none) seem to share the vision.

So there’s that.

Work has been stressful. I am not going to write about it. I may write something about it when its in the past. At least I have a nicer, if chillier place to which to return at the end of my stressful days.