Plop

It has been a stressful few weeks (nothing new, the same old irritations, folded in a new way), and it just seems like if it doesn't rain, it pours. As I look out my window, it is POURING! I have some pathetic fallacy happening. Ain't life grand? I suppose, although, my perennials are already pooched, the rain may help for next year, it's just too little, too late. So I haven't been writing much, and this post is not going to be fantastic. We are still working next door, and tomorrow we have to get a replacement window for the one that was smashed. I don't know how it happened, but it did. No interesting story to report, no dramatic cosmic ride nor fuzz ridden tale. We may have an interested prospective tenant, a few to be exact. Who ever puts down the first deposit wins, and if their references turn out okay, then swell. It would be a huge relief, financially, and hopefully we get some nice ones. I did manage to eat some paint, nothing new with that, I am always splatting, and getting stuff in my eyes, or nose. . . I actually rolled over a cricket in my paint. It left brown marks on the white trim. Yes, we are infested with crickets (outside). I bought a few vintage wool blankets, to continue my rug hooking, and I have to cut them. I feel actually guilty about cutting them up. They are vintage, and I don't like to screw with things of age. It bugs me to no end when people paint old furniture or strip things that shouldn't be stripped, or smash china that isn't flawed. It's like my "don't fuck with nature" mantra that walking buddy keeps reminding me of. Don't try and save a Killdeer's egg, because you might just drop it while transporting it, because you have a juicy case of hyperhydrosis of the hands. Even though, all the while, you are talking to the screaming, frantic mother bird "it's okay, I am just moving your egg off the road so it doesn't get squished". Then crying and laughing so hard when it drops and your hope is lost; (because you are so sad you killed something while trying to save it, but simultaneously you have a nervous tic that causes you to laugh when something bad happens) that you pee your pants halfway through your power walk. Then have to hide your "oops" by sticking your legs together and hoping nobody, including your crying and laughing walking buddy, notices, but you are walking like a speedy circus freak. Or the "quick "walking buddy" throw the weights!" as you are being chased by a vicious Jack Russell Terrier. Oh crap, I can't write anymore, there is thunder and lightning and I don't want my computer to explode.