I'm not a man

294 words
       I wrote in November about coming home to find a drunken mess of humanity shrouded in cigarette smoke..  http://runner12345.blogspot.ru/2012/11/diet.html Now I am paying less for a larger room with a huge balcony and smart bay window that fills the room with daylight and I can use the large kitchen without worry of air pollution.  Before the New Year holiday, I made an apple pie to share with my students at our holiday celebration.

When I first saw the place, there was nothing here but a stove, cobwebs and a dusty carpet.  We furnished the place with cast offs from several sources.  Many items, including a kitchen table, a refrigerator, and some cabinets, came from the owner’s dacha—a small house in the countryside where city people can go to relax.  Other cabinets and a large wardrobe/shelving unit came from an acquaintance of the realtor who planned to remodel their apartment and needed to get everything out.  So we were the lucky recipients of the furniture and kitchen supplies—a terrific boon for a guy like me and my roommates.
The cleaning process inspired one of my favorite lines, something worthy of placement on a t-shirt someday.  In my effort to begin with a somewhat clean apartment, I spent the first evening vacuuming, sweeping, and collecting the detritus that littered the floor.  On the second night, we were making some food.  I told Ira that while she supervised the cooking, I would clean the fridge, which carried a strong odor of fish.
“That’s not man’s work,” she answered with a wrinkle of the nose.
“Я не мушина, Я просто человек.”  (I’m not a man, I’m just a person).  An answer that came straight from the top of my head, but one with which I am very happy.