Yesterday I noticed that my tax refund had been deposited into my checking account. I made a mental note to think some more about where that money needed to go; would I have enough to maybe buy something not strictly necessary? Would I need to set it all aside for bills and the move?
Well, I have been checking periodically on my leaky pipe in the basement because it’s only BARELY leaking, you understand, but I figure it warrants watching. As I opened the basement door this morning, I chuckled to myself, thinking how ironic it would be if I found the leak had worsened and needed immediate attention.
Actually, the spot on the floor I’ve been watching was bone dry. I heaved a sigh of relief.
And then I turned to head back up the stairs and found myself facing my (recently repaired) boiler, which was sitting in a large puddle. And spewing water from two different locations.
But at least this happened after a really rotten morning. And the afternoon wasn’t much of an improvement.
And the repairman called me HONEY. Not as in, “Honey you are so adorable I cannot help using an endearment on you,” but as in, “Honey you are so stupid I am wondering how it is possible that you remember to breathe.”
And I gave up chocolate for Lent.