Was this Saturday or Sunday?

I think this was Sunday. Mom hung the clearance thermal insulating curtains, two mirrors and the squiggle while I put the nightstand together wrong, then had to fix it.

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Spelling counts

As Tracy said, "Sounds painful."

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That's better

Who knew there were these fabulous strange metal objects for sale? The one I got was a strange squiggly cloud looking thing, which made me gasp, especially when I saw the clearance tag. How could someone not snatch these up? Because the aisle is filled with such treasures.

Got new silverware

Dammit. Let me try this again.

Mom visit

Mom was thrilled when we woke up to this on Saturday morning:



Oh, snow!  Sadly, it all melted away and set us free to run all over Reno looking in thrift stores and other such fabulous places.

Oh, here! You start here.

Last night, I was lying in bed waiting to fall asleep and thinking about this mess. Several people have suggested I write about it, and I am constantly reminded about how much better I feel about things when I process them that way. But there are many problems with writing about this.

For one, it's personal and painful. I don't want to portray Chris in a bad light, even if many of my champions would argue that I have given him enough consideration. Another problem is that I like my blog to be funny, and I'm not finding much of this funny. Well, there's some gallows humor. Another, more ridiculous reason is the perfectionist in me wants to show the whole story- to start at the beginning. But the other night, lying here and listening to the radio, there was a long piece of music that served as an intermission and through my dozing, I decided that this piece of music had crawled out of the radio and marked an intermission in my own life. This is me right now, waking up out of a fog and wondering what the hell just happened. That last chapter contains as much as I was able to say; it looks short, but it felt very long. I felt like the ice cube stuck in the bottom of the glass.

Thank you, satellite radio and sleepy Jenny, for identifying a place to start, or maybe continue.

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Now that I've made an obnoxious bitch of myself...

It's time for everyone's favorite thing: a complaining blog!

Don't worry, I had a wonderful time with Mom and I'll get some pictures up,  but right now I am annoyed, so that takes priority.

I was supposed to walk with Jody today, which was a good plan because I would be home early. I let her know I was home, that 8 would get something to eat, and meet her soon. I ate and heard the toilet running. Continued eating. Still running. Went to investigate. Jiggled things. Went to get my super book of knowledge, read about toilets, went to fix toilet. Fix did not work. Called the office.

"Is it overflowing?"

"No."

"Then it's not an emergency. You'll need to come sign a work order."

Jesus, really? The simplest problems require me to go to the office, sign a long and unnecessarily complicated form, and decide which part of the day I want someone traipsing through my home: the part when I'm at work or the part when I'm at work.

"Will your dog be confined?"

She'll have to be if you want to make it in the door, huh?

I've had to do this twice already, and both times I've managed to sound as exasperated as possible, which will surely inspire them to help me as much as possible. I answer frustrated phone calls all day and I know these are not their rules and should behave better, but if I don't understand or agree with the rules, then I will get snotty with whoever is enforcing them.

"I don't understand why I have to come in every time."

"It lets us know that you're authorizing the work order."

Were they having a problem with residents prank work ordering each other? Whatever. I'm sure there is a totally valid reason for this that just escapes me. Sigh. These are serious problems- don't laugh.

I walk back home and find that the toilet has stopped running.

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