Courtesy of Trancejen, let me wish you all a happy delurking week and encourage you to leave a message in the guestbook. I promise you I'll do the same.
There are guys working at my mom's house again today for the third (third!) day in a row. She might move into that house yet!
Around the corner from us is a brand new house. The people who owned the old house there ripped the majority of it down, burned the rest, and then started over. They "broke ground" a few months after my mom did. Two weeks ago Friday, they got their occupancy permit. The husband died the next day. Massive heart attack. They were at the hospital instead of moving their stuff in.
This is not the kind of story that warms the heart.
In other news, I have a zit the size of Montana on the end of my nose. I am 35 years old. There's a picture of me at Freshman Class Day, posing with three of my friends and giant tissue paper flowers we were suckered into buying near the entrance to Canobie Lake Park. In the photo, I am 14. In the photo, Montana's great great great great grandfather is resting comfortably in that very same spot.
21 years later, you'd think my skin would have matured a bit. Not a chance.
Some things in life are just not fair.
Yes, I'm aware of the irony present when I go from telling all y'all a story about a man's death to complaining bitterly about the zit that's eating my face. I'm aware. And I'm telling the story anyway.
No click on the comment button and let me know who you are, wouldja? Even if you plan to berate my self-centered, bezitted self.