Who's the drip in the room?

Picture of the Day:



It's almost 11pm and low and behold, there's a "drip, drip, drip" coming from the bathroom. Assuming it's the cat playing in the toilet water, I roll my eyes and sigh. As I walk into the bathroom I notice that the cat was sitting right next to me on the sofa. "Was" as in...until I got up. Sorry Butterbutt, apparently my pumpkin (and brain) turns mush when the clock strikes 10.

Pumpkin, as in...the 4 bedroom we're living in. A saving grace..yes, despite the lack of treble reverberating the walls from the foursome next door. College. Gotta love it...ten plus years ago that is.

The "drip, drip, drip" isn't the sink faucet, nor the tub faucet. And then it hits me. Literally. I'm standing in a pool of murky water as I'm bombarded by water pellets falling from...the ceiling. I grab a dishpan, but today's modern marvel (from Tarje') has rounded corners and doesn't quite reach the drips...dropping in the corner.

As I stand there with a piece of popcorn ceiling on my nose, two tunes spring into my noggin:

- There's a hole in my Bucket...dear Liza...dear Liza. (everybody in unison now...)

And...

- The roof...the roof...

I don't know why the last one came up. Maybe it's because I know there's so much mold in that ceiling that I assume they'll have to set it on fire to kill it all. When I awake in a bubble with air tanks (like a scene from ET) I'll scream, "I told you so". I'll make sure I post a picture though. It'll be a laugh for all at least. Much obliged.

Mold. It's not a friend. Just sayin'... No really..I'm not a drip, but there IS a drip somewhere in the room. Hey, anyone got a square to spare?

Unemployed

Picture of the Day:

Being a SAHM, who is actively searching for a full-time job, is a lot like fishing off of a pier with the editor of "Rod & Reel". And just like fishing off of a pier (*ahem* because what SAHM family can afford a boat) with an expert, someone is going to eventually get the catch! My catch (let's call it "22" in fact) as a SAHM, is that I can't go to work without Madison first being in school, and I can't put Madison in school without a paycheck. Of course, having a resume' that lists my last date of employment in the same year Britney Spears was topping the charts, doesn't help. As for my "Catch of the Day"...we'll just call it a flounder.

I thought it would be easier to return to the field of Interior Design. After all, I've kept up with trends by flipping through monthlies at my local Super Bookstore (while savoring my sugar-free vanilla soy latte). I've harshly critique Kenneth Brown, Candice Olson and some other of my HGTV favorites, from the comfort of our gargantuan "monster sofa"; and I've updated and visited all of my Mozilla Firefox design bookmarks.. And yet, here I sit perusing the "Professional" section of the local beat. (I'm really not quite sure why they call it the "Professional" section. It's not like the other Employment Ad area is the "Unprofessional" section.)

And sure...I've looked into other fields. After all, wasn't I just in the childcare field a couple of months ago? Yeah, well...if you call it that. Madison and I ended up so sick, so often, that we spent more money on Doctor co-pays than I brought in. I've also looked into photography (realized I would have to spend an atrocious amount on equipment), writing (got an article published in an up-and-coming magazine...for free) and "other avenues"; which I'm still pursuing. Visit Indelible Inkings to find out what the heck I'm jibber-jabbering about. Yes, I've looked into other opportunities. I'm not saying I'm loaded my handy-dandy Purell bottle and signed on with Mike Rowe or anything.

Of course, now I've got my broken "na-noo na-noo toe" (you know, the Mork hand sign) and our final hoo-RAH at baby-making a sibling for Madison ('cause I'm not getting any younger you know)... Oh, and if you think that last one's an excuse, you weren't wearing my shoes for 6-1/2 months and "heaving and hoeing" at, well..everything. Note: hoeing NOT as in the garden with a weed wacker and shovel. If you've been pregnant, you know what I mean.

The school is supposed to call at the end of this week. You know, for Madison's Speech and Language Assessment. Hopefully the second time around will be a charm. Perhaps resulting in a couple of days where Madison would need to attend the local elementary school for a pre-K academic program to assist her "P's" and "Q's". (No really...the actual P's & Q's; not the ones eulogized by Emily Post.)

Madison in school? Ahhhh...the worm to catch the big one! *donning the fishing vest and hat...complete with hooks, flies and all*

Limp-a-listic

Picture of Day:

I'm not the type of person that whines about being sick; in fact I hate being sick. It's so debilitating. I know...I know...that's the point of being sick, to slow your body down so you can recover. Doesn't life know that once you reach a certain age, you don't have time to slow down? Ok, so maybe I whine a little.

Limp-a-listic. That's what I'm calling the next 6 weeks. After all, if I think positive maybe it will be an utterly fantastic journey, without "happenings" of any sort. I realize that's about as hopeful as Britney taking vows as a nun, but it's worth a try isn't it? (Positive thinking...not the whole "habit" thing. Although she did dress as a school girl at one time.)

On another (non-Britney) note, why is it that suddenly all the things I haven't done in such a long time...I want to suddenly do? For instance, awhile back I was tread milling about 5 miles a day, 3 times a week. Haven't done it in months. Haven't even flinched at the thought of slapping on my sneakers and jamming to, "Sexy Back". Two days after I break my middle toe, and I'm craving me a run. It doesn't help that I get ticked off that I can't limp faster than a slug stuck to a salt lick.

Then there's the fact that I live in a townhouse - 2 flights of stairs. Gotta also love the fact that Madison is on the 2nd floor, while the Master is on the 3rd. Guess Jeff's getting a taste of, "That sucks" *grumble, grumble...throw the robe on...bumble downstairs* when Madison wakes up and screams, "Elmo! Elmo! Where ARE you!!!"

Ok, so maybe limp-a-listic isn't the right word. Damn, I'm a crank-meister now... Did I mention that I hate being sick. *glaring at toe* Heeeey, did my toe just give me the bird? Oh yeah...that's just the way it's taped. Definitely got to fix that...