Sofa King Miserable

I have a headache today. I had a headache yesterday. I don't feel well.


I didn't get any sleep Saturday night (camping interrupted by the storm of the century), and Sunday I witnessed the most pitiful site, which I'll likely blog more about later (long story short: I found my parents dog — born when I was just a kid — dying in the backyard, unable to move and being eaten by flies despite being still alive).

Suffice it to say sleep Sunday night wasn't much better. My memory is a bit of a torture device in that I can't easily erase particular images from my brain.



But this week, well... this week is off to a poor start. This morning while getting ready, an odd, distant trickle of water erupted into a waterfall from above, as a portion of my bathroom ceiling bubbled to the size of a basketball and water spewed forth, pushing plaster (and with my luck: probably asbestos) from its path, creating a puddle of water on my bathroom floor that spilled out into the hallway.

I called my landlady and attempted to clean up the mess after the deluge slowed, and she informed me that she knew they were having "problems with the toilet" upstairs, and she'd take care of it "today."

She knew they were having problems, and she waited until this happened to take care of it?

And that was TOILET WATER I was cleaning up?! That I got all over my work clothes, requiring I change... and show up for work 90 minutes late?

And now I can barely concentrate, headache and all, terrified that the leak will start up again; that Maude might eat something that my landlady leaves on the floor; that our guest cat will escape if the door is left open.

I can't wait to leave work today, and for all the wrong reasons.


Estelle Getty is dead.



But, hey, there is this. At long last, a smile — albeit bittersweet — to mark the day.