cleolinda

GOD! WHAT THE HELL, PEOPLE! There's a hole in the pool, there's a hole in the roof, the carpet needs another steaming (which we do ourselves) and the dogs need bathing again (which we don't, because they need medicated baths and gland-expressing and ear squeegeeing), AND money is tight. You know how people get onto you about using the word "literally" in a non-literal manner? Well, we are literally finding some new problem every time we turn around. "We fixed the shower--but the dogs need--and the pool--and the roof--AUGH!"

For real. Mom and I were discussing the pool as we went upstairs to dig out her box of vintage Nancy Drews--the original books, all of them, preserved in amber since her childhood--when we discovered a puddle on top of them. Fortunately, the books were dry and unharmed, but this caused much dismay and poking in the rafters and the spot diagnosis that the storm last night (and, very likely, previous storms as well) had damaged the roof. As evidenced by... the shingles in the yard. Oh. Those. Duh. So I'm sitting here waiting for the contractor to get here so I can sign his release and he can climb on the roof and, knowing our luck, probably fall off and break a tree or something. And while I'm waiting for him, the pest control guy comes. (This is what I do, you know. This whole "writing at home, taking a semester off" thing? Whether I'm in class or not, I'm kind of the unofficial housekeeper. I am the answerer of doors and the greeter of handyguys and the walker of dogs and the wiper of pee. Also the fetcher of mail, the mopper of floors, the raker of carpets, and Meko's Seeing-Eye Girl. And me and my toiletbowl hands need a change of scenery, quite honestly.)

And what I wanted the Nancy Drew books for was to do some old-school reading-up for the YA detective series I'm hoping to plot out, but it doesn't look like I'm going to get much of that done this afternoon.