Wednesday, 26 January 2011

The Top Three Dangers of London Life

1. Showering

My shower has two knobs- one that spews frigid water and one that spews burning hot water... neither water stream can be run alone, the results would be deadly. I feel as if I should wear a lab coat every time I enter the shower as I am like a mad scientist trying to get the perfect mix. Its quite the lengthy process and I almost always have to start from scratch at least three times. I am currently in the process of devising a complex mathematical equation (e.g. three turns to the right+ two to the left=touchable temperature) that could help my chemistry along, but so far- no dice. Once I have mastered the mixing of the water, there is the issue of the shower head and its attached tubing. This dynamic duo prefers to be anywhere but its designated hook- i think its favorite place is relaxing across the floor of a shower, where I find it most days. I swear it always laid out in a way that looks like the tub has an evil grin. Showering than becomes a juggling act- holding the evil villain shower head  in one arm and preferred cleaning agent in the have both hands accessible one must tuck the shower head under their armpit, resulting in water spurring in every which direction. During my most recent shower, I decided I wanted the water to be just a tad bit warmer so I turned the hot knob just a tinsy tiny bit. mistake. Imagine showering with one of this automated moving sprinkler heads, now imagine its spewing hot lava. I had to hop up on either side of the tub just escape the scolding water, trying to maneuver my body to the faucet without letting a single drop of death get on me. Treacherous.  After some yoga- like poses, I finally did get the water off- just call me indiana jones. But, I still  had conditioner in my hair so I had to begin the mixing process once more. When I finally did exit the shower, there was water dripping from all four walls of the bathroom not to mention a rather massive puddle on the floor. As you can imagine, all of these factors do not bode well for my already fairly apathetic attitude towards personal hygiene....

2. Opening the blinds

My room is located on the ground floor overlooking a fairly busy pedestrian sidewalk- this means that at all hours of the day a constant stream of people are walking right past my bedroom window. This also means that say, you want some natural light in your room because your lightbulb is out, and you also want to change into your PJs... you may mistakenly flash a small indian man and his wife.

3. Crossing the street

New Best Friend
This was by far the single most common worry people expressed to me when I said I was going to London. I'm guessing it had something to do with  my track record with all things involving automobiles or directionality. People really seemed genuinely concerned I would be smucked by a car within my first days on foreign soil. Well...  their concerns might have been warranted, let's just say there have been some close calls. You see, the words "look right" and "look left" are printed on the ground of most crosswalks for us foreigners that drive on the other side of the road. These seem to do the trick for people that a. know their left and rights and b. know which way cars drive down the street in America. However, considering I am a member of neither group, these little "helpful hints" just haven't proved that helpful. But wait Mom before you send me back on the first flight out to Minnesota, let me tell you about my new best friend. He is this little light up green guy that motions on stoplights for walkers. He really looks out for me, except not when he gets angry and turns red. For the crosswalks without stoplights a friend (clearly, not my new bff) gave me another little "helpful hint" that at "zebra" crosswalks, pedestrians have the right of way. So yesterday, I was happily strolling along and what do you know, but I come upon a crosswalk... said crosswalk had white markings on black pavement. These markings were not in cow pattern or dalmatian polka dots for that matter, so, naturally, I concluded zebra and waltzed across. Well, as it turns out, black and white in no other logical animal pattern, is not means enough to qualify a crosswalk as a zebra... and I ended up darting cars at zebra speeds. As luck would have it the one "helpful hint" that might have actually proved useful to me was never given to me. The other day I was waiting patiently to cross the street and be greeted by my new best friend, when I heard a faint whistling, "how nice" i thought "someone enjoying this early morning," but  soon the whistling grew louder.. and angrier... and the next thing I know a bike was swerving around me at full speed and its rider yelling some not very nice things at me in a british accent. Again, turns out whistling = move out of the dumbass and not happy biking melody...but then again, i never was too good at math.

No comments:

Post a Comment