Let them eat wood!

That's right, folks. And Happy Thursday to you too.

I can't say that I'm in full blown I hate everyone today mode, but I've been teetering on the hate fence now for about, ohhh...I'd say a good month and a half. (smiling sweetly and sending lots of love to you at work today, husband!....uhh hmmm.) So this little gem of a whatever-these-things-are-that-I-keep-seeing-everywhere seemed very fitting for me. If I'm being honest though, not a day goes by that someone's face doesn't annoy me! And NO. I will not accept those dirty looks you are trying to send me right now. A good HALF of those days its my own face that annoys me.

Anywho. Speaking of annoying...there is a man, a rather hmm, let's just say he's the opposite of squeaky clean and he is wearing about as far from a suit as you can get...well anyway, he's in my bathroom right now...Not USING it!!!...you know, he's just re-attaching our flipping roof that was soggy and moldy and was about to collapse on our heads!!! I mean, I don't want to bore anyone with the details, but basically...I'VE BEEN BREATHING IN MOLD! And so have MY DOGS! And the grey dog, just happens to be ALLERGIC to mold.

We have this really awesome rooftop patio here in good ole California, and naturally there are stairs that lead up to the patio...?? You knew that, right? Well, blah blah..there was a leak and now there is a burly fella in my bathroom repairing it. Well, yes I am happy that the mold is gone, but I mean...who is this person? Not to mention I am here alone with him...of course the wife has to be the one that stays home with the creepsters that come to repair things in our houses. It really would be too much to ask of the husbands to make time in their busy days to do something besides go sit at a desk and pretend they are working. Sorry, see...my husband's sweet angelic face isn't even immune to annoying me. So I'm just sitting here...really hoping that this man is only into repairing bathrooms and such and not into assaulting women or rotisserie-ing dogs.

But before this...before the bathroom repairs came the termite tenting. And when I say termite tenting, I mean that they put a giant tent over your entire house and pump poison gas into the tent to kill the little wood-eaters. We rent, (thank God) and when the property manager (Hi, Mary :)) told us that we had to get out of our house for a weekend, I really didn't think too much of it...that is, until I learned that we had to put everything...and I mean EVERYTHING (okay...just food, toothpaste...medicines, etc.) in these plastic bags and tape them up. And after you empty your pantry and your fridge and your medicine cabinets and your dog's toy box and your house is destroyed and it looks like a bomb went off in your home, thennnnn, you just have to put all the plastic bags inside another plastic bag and tape that up as well. No big deal, right? Ha! You have CLEARLY never had termite treatment, Suzy Sunshine.

So we bagged everything and I secretly threw a lot of stuff away because I thought if we had to take such extreme measures to make sure that everything that would ever go into our mouth was safely in these double-bagged bags, that'd I just assume throw everything away and start over at the grocery store...you know, in hopes of not ingesting something that had absorbed poisonous gas?!? Well, sweet husband had another idea and big-bad-bold-beat-my-chest-man came out and he assured me that he had done the best damn double-bagging job that anybody had ever done before and we were not throwing our food away.

I guess long story short is that when we returned from our weekend away, I let him have the first few bites of everything he cooked that had been bagged up and waited to see if he lived or died. He's still truckin' along so I guess we are okay.

The night we got back home, I googled..a lot...about this poison gas and ended up running outside with my two dogs because I convinced myself that the gas was still in the house. No, I didn't care that the pest control people had walked around with a gas meter and determined that it was safe. I left brave husband sitting right at the kitchen table eating his dinner and got me and the schnauzers outta dodge. Of course I came right back after I called our downstairs neighbor and heard that she was still alive as well. In my defense, they DO mix pepper spray in with the gas to warn people if its leaking or if its still inside the house and everyone's eyes were burning! (and nobody knew that they mixed the pepper spray in with the gas until genius (that's me) googled about it...they were all just sitting around wondering why their eyes were burning). So let me get this straight, the pepper spray that you mixed in with the poisonous gas is still burning our eyes, but there is no way in hell that the poison gas is still in my house? You can see the cause for concern, right? I thought you'd agree with me.

Geez. So I guess what I'm trying to say is...it's not worth it!! Let the little bastards eat the wood.



This is Louie the First, you know, our fish, riding in the console of the Tahoe.
He even had to vacate the house for the weekend.

Now what should I do with this man in my bathroom? I mean, is there an etiquette for this? Should I offer him a cookie or a muffin or something? I'm gonna go google that.