sentient towels

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No, it’s not Pokemon.

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Can you hear them sing?

Sentient Towels. My friend Brad coined the term. I think it is brilliant.

These insidiously malodorous entities have a life of their own. Each one energised by a buzzing, bustling eco-system of bacteria chowing down on decaying micro-flakes of human skin, sweat and whatnot embedded in its thick fibrous tapestry. The entire bathroom reeks from the cacophony of activity, a raucous macabre Dies Irae in elaborate counterpoint. And yes, the merry village and inhabitants, remain there for weeks – sights, sounds, smells and lively jiving – unless I take them to the laundry room myself. Rightful owner of these beings either cannot be bothered (simply to lazy) or, perhaps, actually likes his little critters that way?

My own thought processes have short-circuited, contemplating the various possibilities behind this frightening phenomenon.

Someday, I shall write about the serious repercussions of Inclement Space upon the mental and physical wellbeing. For now, these little babbly ramblings are all I can muster.

Dinner tonight – two panadols and half a glass of warm water. This foodie has stopped fooding. A neighbour remarked to me, “How can you even live in there, let alone actually eat in that kind of condition?” What can I say? I merely smiled, shrugged, and shuddered alongside her.

The Sentient Towels are roaring in their stolid, stubborn silence.

 


 

Another delayed post. Written awhile ago. The roaring olfactory oppression helped to propel me into action – I have left this hell. Never to return.

escape!

Four months inside sensory hell. Enough is enough. Time to exit. Escape.

Packing. Sorting. Throwing out. Selling. More packing. Ordering food and treats for Lucy. Oh, a new bed of her own, and don’t forget the supplements too! Packing for Lucy as well.

Finally, it’s time to say goodbye.

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Exiting Hell

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implosion

They say it sometimes takes awhile for trauma sufferers to recount a particularly confronting event. In the grand cosmic struggle of life, perhaps this tiny little bubble of hideous dread may not measure up against the more solemn travails. However, it was a kind of ‘home-coming’ that needed time and space to communicate in intelligible wordedness. Here, it’s worth a feeble attempt anyway.

Welcome back to Sensory Perdition. New and improved version… Yes, indeed, a worse state than before. This is the looming shadow of fear. Five lovely days away, cocooned inside tranquil cleanliness, yet unable to erase the horror, the anticipation of sensory agony, awaiting upon return to reality. Continue reading

celebrating

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Time for celebrating! So, the Bulldozer has left the house. Not a minute too soon. It was Christmas Eve when he left. I immediately set about redecorating and tidying the lounge area and bathroom. Been too uninspired and even depressed to make the home pleasant when the Bulldozer was around. He was like a bad odour that seeped into every nook and cranny, triggering mental, sensory and even physical nausea. Nails on the proverbial blackboard! But he is gone! Hurrah! Well, no, I don’t have money to splash on new stuff, so I just used whatever I had to brighten up the walls and the surrounds. Continue reading

go, go, go!

Yes, the Aspie Bunny is cooking up a storm again! It’s therapy for me, a sort of calming technique for raw and frayed nerves. Continue reading

folly or naiveté?

I know, I know, I should have booked straight into an ensuite room and saved myself this debilitating nightmare. A literal case of “penny wise, pound foolish,” since I am now in the UK! 🙂 I am not sure if it was folly or just naiveté, or a simple combination of the two. I am a poor scholar, who has not managed to clinch a grant for this trip, and who has had to scramble around in abject panic to find funding this time around. I assumed (wrongly) that this being a conference consisting of academics and researchers, they would all have at least some semblance of decorum, consideration and personal hygiene. Not that I thought academics are genteel saints, but some basics should apply, especially since they may not wish to create a poor impression for themselves. Non? Non. This couple is amazingly appalling. It is 5.30am and they are now up and about, stomping around the hallway, slamming doors, splashing water all over the bathroom, not just the sink or bath tub (yes, I have hyper hearing, remember? I know what water sounds like and the different tones it produces when it hits different surfaces), talking loudly as if it were cocktail hour, throwing open their windows with grand flourish, hacking and spitting with even more vim, verve and vigor, and god alone knows why shuffling around in the hallway! Continue reading

misrepresentation & the Aspie

One final post before I really really get down to that word-reno job!!! This has been on my mind lately… nagging and looping at me in typical Aspie fashion.

I moved into this place in Dillon Street, Paddington, when I first arrived in Sydney. Photos taken from the public advertisement on domain.com.au. It turned out to be one crazy fiasco, a comedy of errors with some less comedic undertones. Continue reading