Bitching and whining

We have a leak in a bathroom upstairs that has made its way downstairs. We noticed a little discoloration around one of the can lights over the kitchen sink. It grew. We knew we had a problem.

“That’s a leak, all right.”

That’s gonna cost us some money.

OK. That’s one.

Two. I’d say at least 20 roofers have knocked on our door, or dropped something in the mailbox, or called us up in the past few months to tell us that we need a new roof. Faulty shingles, they say. Discontinued. Our insurance company will pay for it! That’s separate from the bathroom leak.

We’ve had a few roofers out. Have another coming Friday. I’ve talked to State Farm about it. Three or four times. Ooof.

There’s lots more. I’ve had HVAC people over. A couple of times. We need new air conditioning units, for both the upstairs and the downstairs. Maybe new furnaces, too. What do we do? When do we do? That’s not cheap.

baby-cryWe need new carpet, but Brodie goes through a coat’s worth of fur every couple weeks, it seems like, so how smart is that? Meanwhile, our stairs look like he exploded on them.

Our wood floors inside the front door? Brodie gets to running and spinning and scratches the hell out of them. Refinishing, replacing … who knows? You know how hard it is to find a good handyman?

We need to paint just about every room. Soon.

OK, probably every room.

One side of our back yard looks like the Sahara, the other like Bayou Lafourche. We have a tree growing in the front that is blotting out any hopes that our little lawn has of ever getting any sun.

I might’ve taken too much off the driveway when I powerwashed it a couple weeks ago.

Home ownership. Why didn’t anybody tell us about this part of the American Dream?

There’s more. I have to find some time, in the next few months, to head up to Maryland to see my Mom, who has moved back to the mainland after some 30 years in Hawaii. She came 6,000 miles to be closer to her family. I should probably make the effort to go see her. Soon.

Dammit. Today’s her birthday. 84? I think it’s 84. I probably need to call her.

Luke’s starting school, he’s trying to get all his college applications finished, there’s never enough time to spend with him or Mary Jo.

I’m writing at least three or four freelance pieces a week for various sites — sometimes more — always looking for more outlets and I’m trying to do the right thing to see if there’s anything full-time out there that might be fun. Plus, I’m still after that blow-your-mind idea that I’ve been searching for since leaving my last full-time gig.

I should be working on a piece right now, about scientists who are planning to spend a year on the largest uninhabited island in the world as preparation for a trip to Mars. I’m waiting on a callback.

My jump shot has been off for six months. My knee’s a little wonky. My neck has been hurting me for days. I have a prescription that has been waiting for me at CVS for more than a week.

The sun’s in my eyes. It took a bad bounce …

The Blog! The Blog! I haven’t posted in weeks!

No excuses. As our boy Trump would say, those are for losers.

I’ll get back to it. Stick with me.

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