Basement flooded. Bumped my head. Have three papers to write, 200+ pages to read, excel project, and have headache from aforementioned head bump. Crappy Saturday morning…

Here is the culprit. Underneat this stupid concrete-filled barrel is an old well. It takes extra water and dumps it out on the street.

This drain drains (somehow) into the old well. That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, considering the above barrel is about 6 feet up from this drain. I checked this damn drain at 10:30 last night and it was clear. This morning? Leaves. Leaves willy-nilly.Here is the aftermath. Stupid drain. See how high up the water went on the door?


The last few days have been full of confused communication and smiling at strangers. If you want to know more about that you’ll have to be a friend who talks to me in person, because I can’t talk about it here. I’m totally freaked out and strangely optimistic. We’ll see if that stays.

I’m listening to a playlist I created called “belly songs” because they do a certain thing to my belly that can be compared to riding a roller coaster, or walking close to a high ledge. Here is the playlist, because my discretion and my energy level can’t give you anything but awesome music.

1. Love Reign O’er Me – The Who
2. Baba O’Reilly – The Who
3. Radio – Alkaline Trio
4. Pride (In The Name Of Love) – U2
5. Can’t Find My Way Home – Blind Faith

There are more, but I’ll post them another time I’m hurting for content. 🙂

Am A Bad Blogger

OK. Enough. I miss blogging, even if nobody misses reading them. Plus, I feel like my brain works better if I have this little place to vent.

So…I was thinking about updating my facebook photos. I realized something. We have tons of pictures of the hubby, the kitty, all our friends, the cars, the guitars, and the house, but very few of me. Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “how conceited are you? honestly? you expect people to want to take pictures of you all the time? What? You think you’re so cute and special that your every movement should be photographed?”

No, Mr./Mrs./Ms. Snarkypants. Nor do I merely monopolize the camera so that nobody can take pictures of me to prove I was at events, parties, moments, etc.

I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe I’m just the “hey! let’s take pictures!” kind of person and nobody else I associate with is. Hence all my botched self-portrait photo attempts.

So maybe I’ll just fess up to my friends and family and say, “Hey, ya’ll. I’d really like to remember what I looked like when I was 31. Do you mind taking a couple of photos for documentation purposes only? Hold on, let me put on some lipstick.”