going home for now

I'm a curious type. I've always wanted to know what's in store, and how I can prepare for it. I ask a lot of questions.

By popular consensus - I don't even know what that means - I'm going home on Saturday, as originally planned. I'll be home for about two weeks before I come back here again, though I'll come back whenever I'm called.

Today Lisa let me know she'd like me to head home, even though I'll miss her kick-ass "thank you" party to her friends. Then she said, "I'll want you here for later."

There are some doors I could not ever resist opening. Curiosity has got the better of me on many occasions. But in response to Lisa's request: I don't even know what that means. But I'll be back to find out.

sorry for the inconvenience

For those of you who read and comment in my blog (and thank you all!), you're going to have to do a little word verificaton now. Why? Because I had 20 (twenty!) spam blog comments to deal with tonight. I've had a few before, but tonight, the last thing I wanted to do was read any of that crap. So in the words of Douglas Adams, sorry for the inconvenience.

am I on speed or what?

Getting up at 5 a.m. blew chunks. I don't need to say anything more about that.

I did get to know hobbitt's bigger little sister a bit better today. She lived in Oregon for many years. Seems she was quite involved in the assisted-suicide legislation activism of the day. I've always wondered how that service worked. The initial criteria for someone requesting to participate in this service is that he or she must be a resident of Oregon, and must prove residency. Here is a link to the page that describes the current requirements. I found this interesting.

The patient must meet certain criteria to be able to request to participate in physician-assisted suicide. Then, the following steps must be fulfilled: 1) the patient must make two oral requests to the attending physician, separated by at least 15 days; 2) the patient must provide a written request to the attending physician, signed in the presence of two witnesses, at least one of whom is not related to the patient; 3) the attending physician and a consulting physician must confirm the patient's diagnosis and prognosis; 4) the attending physician and a consulting physician must determine whether the patient is capable of making and communicating health care decisions for him/herself; 5) if either physician believes the patient's judgment is impaired by a psychiatric or psychological disorder (such as depression), the patient must be referred for a psychological examination; 6) the attending physician must inform the patient of feasible alternatives to assisted suicide including comfort care, hospice care, and pain control; 7) the attending physician must request, but may not require, the patient to notify their next-of-kin of the prescription request. A patient can rescind a request at any time and in any manner. The attending physician will also offer the patient an opportunity to rescind his/her request at the end of the 15-day waiting period following the initial request to participate.

I wonder how hard it is to wait a full two weeks to end your life. For some, I can imagine it's very, very hard.

We talked about wanting to formulate our own exit strategies, depending on what our end-of-life issues might be.

Well, be that as it may, when we arrived at the hospital at 5:30 Lisa was up and ready for a bath. As anyone who has ever had a serious illness will understand, modesty isn't something that is easily maintained in a hospital setting. And, as I have recently learned, I'm pretty fearless. I got her bathed thoroughly, and I got her chapped places lotioned up. "I'm going in!" was my warning to her. Ya gotta laugh about this stuff. And she's the best sport of them all.

We had breakfast together, and she dozed. When falling asleep, she seems to be having conversations - with all the nuance, clarity and laughter that would go with a lucid conversation. It's a riot to listen to and too funny to watch. "Oh no, we don't party much with my husband's side of the family." I'll leave out the following comment that explains, utterly, why they don't party with his family, and which she said loud and clear in her little sleep talk.

I brought Lisa's sister back here around noon, and turned around to go back. I'm glad I didn't dawdle. The afternoon was hard. Lisa was bloated and in pain. Breathing was difficult. Basically she was constipated and the pressure was getting to be unbearable. We took a "jog" around the "block" of the 4th floor. She had 2 small glasses of prune juice. Nothing. Knowing that the pain medication is stopping up her system kept her from requesting the medication. She refused a laxative, as the last time she used one, she was in extreme pain from cramping. We walked. We got a wheelchair so that we could bounce her around a little bit.

All the while her step-daughter, 5 days overdue for the birth of her first child and the first grandchild, also awaited relief. They apparently made a pact to pop together. Lisa finally got it going around 5:30 p.m., and Nicky started having contractions about 8:30 p.m. I don't know how Nicky is doing at the moment, but Lisa is feeling mighty fine, and it was 4 hours between requests for pain medication this evening. This is major. She was pleading for it every hour (which is the minimum time between doses).

After helping her get settled again, I came back here, picking up some groceries on the way, and made a huge pot of vegetable soup and a pan of macaroni and cheese, before leaving to go back to see if she needed any help tonight. Yes, I know the staff is there to help. But we have a full complement of able (if not entirely clued-in) bodies here to make sure she doesn't have to wait for a nurse or PCA to assist her. They're not as slow as some other hospital employees I've known, but even 10 minutes waiting for help on the toilet isn't acceptable to me. Not when family is here.

I finally came back here about 9:30, talked with Lisa's husband for a bit, prepared my dinner, cleaned up the kitchen, and voila. Here I am. Almost 11. I had about 4 hours of sleep, and though I wouldn't attempt to drive right now, I'm good to go. I'm wondering what Fletch put in the coffee this morning. And I'm hoping the crappy martini (gosh I'm such a snob about it now and pity me but I absolutely must have good gin) will take this down a notch. I'm not superwoman. But I sure felt like it today.

sweet mystery

Northwest neither cancelled nor otherwise screwed up my flight. In fact, the exceptionally tall gentleman who originally sat in the middle seat ran off for the exit row as soon as he could, which was a good thing. I wouldn't have wanted to deal with his giraffe leg leaning against mine for 4 hours.

hobbitt and I went out for some semblance of normalcy the night before I left. Bad idea: hauling myself out of bed at 5:20 a.m. didn't do much for the mini-hangover I wouldn't have experienced at all had I been able to sleep another three hours. I dozed on an off in the car for the ninety-minute drive to SeaTac. The flight was uneventful and long, and I probably could have slept, but Zevon gave me some books when I left San Marcos and well, I can't close my eyes on a book. What can I say?

About 2/3 of the way from Detroit metro airport to Kalamazoo, my drowsiness got the better of me and I had to pull into a rest stop and close my eyes for 15 minutes or so.

I have my marching orders: try to get refunds or vouchers for Lisa and Mike's planned trip to Europe in September. Airfare, Eurail pass, etc. Arrange for some changes to Lisa's will. Get their home office wireless. I'll be busy and engaged.

And in less than 5 hours I need to be at the hospital so that Mike F. can sleep in tomorrow. I'll have plenty of time to sleep, someday. Our goal: to get Lisa home. She recently went off IV pain meds and the oral ones just don't seem to be cutting it. The pain makes it difficult for her to breathe. With any luck I'll meet the doctor tomorrow and Lisa will give permission for her to talk to me. How would you choose between lucid and pain-free? Me, I'd go for pain-free, but then again, this is Lisa's choice. We'll see what we can accomplish.

oh, yeah, we have everything under control

hobbitt comes home tonight and I'm scrambling to get rid of the evidence.

Okay, that's a euphemism for wanting the house to be nice when he arrives. The Latin Acrobats won't visit me now that I live at the ends of the earth. But let us agree that I haven't exactly "kept the place up" in hobbitt's absence, and yesterday's silt-bowl lawn mowing, without shutting the back windows first, will make for some interesting dusting.

He sounds heartbroken and emotionally exhausted. I will want to dance around like a maniac to make him happy, but I don't think there's any making-him-happy at the moment. He has requested one thing: to be held. That I can do. And I'll be doing it from a relatively clean and ordered home. If I stay motivated and focused, that is. And wrap the dog is duct tape. (It has been shedding season since we moved here.)

Things in K'zoo are not good. Not. Good. NPO, back on catheter, different pain meds. No bowel sounds since surgery five days ago. From what I'm told, Lisa may not be able to know that I'll be there sometime Friday.

Last summer, during an extended midwest trip, I planted Lisa's garden. Well, I planted the annuals she had purchased but didn't have the stamina to put in. (She's a master gardener, and has been working her lovely, restful yard for years.) She had bought two flats of impatiens. I bought five or six more. I got them planted in a day. It hurt. I told her then the "sick girl" defense wouldn't cut it next (this) summer, that I was NOT going to plant her annuals. We laughed about it. And at the time I knew, though she didn't (her own choice), that her doctors didn't expect her to make it past autumn that year.

I wish it wasn't the end of summer. I wish she could be home. I'd plant the impatiens. I'd plant 10 flats. Heck, I know some good massage therapists who could repair the damage. What's a little pain for family, anyway?

Well, that's all for now. Must get back to sandblasting the kitchen and getting out the riding vacuum. Life goes on, after all. Laundry, packing, wondering if Northwest will cancel my flight - heck, I'll be too busy to notice how heavy my heart feels.

this is what we get

This is what we get:
this waning moon
behind silver clouds
on a windy night.

You can go inside
to bed, to look
another night, warmer
perhaps, or calmer.

But we only get
this moon, these winds,
silver clouds. Tonight.
This is what we get.

*sigh*

I'm off to Kalamazoo on Friday to do what I can for Lisa and her husband. For who knows how long.

There's nothing else to be done. My presence has been requested.

I get to see hobbitt, when he returns, for one day before I leave. I saw him for one day before he went there.

But this isn't about us. And so, I go.

fog, again

Last night the deep, resonant, not-too-distant fog horns lulled me to sleep.

I drove into town yesterday for groceries, and while coming down the hill on Sims Way, where there are sweeping views of the bay and Admiralty Inlet - and, on clear days, a hundred fifty miles or so of the Cascade Range - I could see that the shipping channel was engulfed in fog - gray, dense fog. Whidbey Island was somewhat obscured, but the air on Pete Townsend Bay was crystal clear, and sun glinted off the many sail boats and the ferry.

That is a beautiful and mysterious sight for me. From the highlands outside of town (or even from uptown), what happens on the water is entrancing. Once, I was able to see only the back end of the ferry while she was taking on her fares, while the south end of the bay was clear. Back here at home, the clouds were low over the Olympics, creeping east northeast into the lowlands. And yet here, and on the beach here, not a cloud in the piercing blue sky.

Gotta love it. Gotta get out more. Gotta get out on the water soon.

if you pray

Several of you know that hobbitt's little little sister (youngest of two younger sisters) has been dealing with ovarian cancer for a few years now, and has in fact out-lived her initial prognosis by 10 months.

She had surgery today for her second recurrence.

Inoperable. Rampant. Widespread.

I don't know what to ask you, my friends, to pray for. In my tradition, we understand that only spirit truly knows what healing is. Sometimes it's the restoration of the physical body. Sometimes it's the peaceful passage to the next realm.

So, I suppose that's it. If you pray, will you please pray for healing for Lisa Fletcher? Thanks.

late late

Okay, it's midnight. I was IMing with a friend for 4 hours, until a few moments ago. I've had 2 cocktails. (Inebriated? Nope, but I wouldn't drive.) And no food today, at all.

This seems to happen when hobbitt's not around. The food thing, that is.

Supper prospects? Taquitos. Nope. Soup. Nope. Orzo. Hmmmm.

Dammit. I need my man home.

more narcissistic nose-picking

10 Years Ago Today

I was gaining strength after finishing chemo (CMF) in June, and was preparing for a trip to Australia.

5 Years Ago

I was quitting my job at a cancer support center. Haven't worked since.

1 Year Ago

Deep in the quagmire of my mother's estate, and floating in the pool.

Yesterday

Celebrated the sale of druid labs east with a dominoes game at Siren's with hobbitt. Watched the sun go down, the moon come up.

Tomorrow

Wazzat, Friday? Wow. Kayak shopping?

5 Snacks I enjoy

popcorn
chips and Jrzy's salsa
cheese
veggies and dip
kittens on a stick

5 Bands That I Know The Lyrics to Most of Their Songs

Springsteen
Beatles
Allman Brothers
Uncle Bonsai
The Bobs

5 Things I Would Do With $100,000,000

treat many friends to financial security
treat some family members to financial security
have professionals make us a lawn
get that hot tub
set up a foundation for charitable concerns

5 Locations I'd Like To Run Away To

Alaska
Oz, again
New Zealand
Monument Valley
Yellowstone

5 Habits I Have

nail biting
flossing while sitting on the throne
procrastinating
wasting time
daydreaming

5 Things I Like Doing

anything at all with hobbitt
watching Inti swim in Pete Townsend Bay
cooking for folks who appreciate it
recharging my batteries with the chicks in Illinois
laughing until my sides hurt

5 Things I Would Never Wear

thong
halter top
go-go boots
short shorts
fur

5 TV Shows I Like

Dr. Who
The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Adult Swim - all of it
Law & Order, on muliple channels preferably
Myth Busters

5 Movies I Like

Galaxy Quest
The Replacements
Independence Day
Almost Famous
Rock Star

5 Famous People I'd Like To Meet

Jesus
Joseph Campbell
Jonathan Miller
Carl Sagan
William Shakespeare

5 Biggest Joys At The Moment

hobbitt, always
our new home, neighborhood, neighbors
finally selling druid labs east
peace in my heart
my good health

5 Favorite Toys

hobbitt
Dell notebook
Volvo V70 2.5 Turbo AWD
KitchenAid KSM5
Cuisinart immersion blender


5 Tag Teamers

Everybody's done it, alas. Except SweetP.

home for now, brain on holiday

I arrived home last night after a week of tending to an injured friend in San Marcos, CA. Lovely spot, that. Excellent hosts, first-rate accommodations. The happiness I feel at being in my own space again cannot be described. It can't be described because I feel like I left part of my brain somewhere else. California? SeaTac? I don't know. I felt fine last night driving home. I felt fine this morning. This all seemed to hit me after I got back from depositing our home-sale checks in the bank (WOOOO FUCKING HOOOOO!) and traumatizing the Mo with my hobbitt (it's good to work from home). Yes that's a euphemism. Ask Zipper.

Hmmmmm. Well, I have been through a bit of a grinder lately, mostly due to my self-inflicted realty angst. Perhaps when all that heaviness came off my shoulders a little brain leaked out. Anyway, I'm having fleeting images of thoughts, can't backscroll them, can't piece things together. As I lay in hobbitt's embrace earlier, I tried to make sense of some of the ideas and images that floated past my consciousness, but could not. And for the life of me I can't remember them now.

So I'll try not to worry myself about being here alone for a week, and just hold hope that my faculties will return. And banish any thoughts about my mother's last years. And continue to work on a new budget. Contemplate some really healthy R&R. That sort of thing. Oh, and the kayak. Yeah. Kayak.

it's all about me

Not sure who I stole this meme from. Everybody's doing it doing it doing it...picking their nose and chewing it chewing it.

PERSONAL

1. Nervous habits?
Excessive farting. I mean, more than usual.
2. Are you double jointed?
Sorry, no. Only one pipe, too.
3. Can you roll your tongue?
How do you think I got hobbitt to marry me?
4. Can you raise one eyebrow at a time?
Yes, but doing The Rock imitations bores me.
5. Can you blow spit bubbles?
No. What's that?
6. Can you cross your eyes?
Yes, though the last time I did it, they stuck that way.
7. Tattoos?
In the planning stages. I'm thinking, eyebrows.
8. Piercings?
Three. Try to find 'em. Crikey, I'm 48! What the hell are you thinking?
9. Do you make your bed daily?
Only on the days when I haven't jumped out of bed first, thrown my arms over my head Olympics gymnast style, shouting "DISMOUNT!" It's a rule at druid labs.

CLOTHES

10. Which shoe goes on first?
The one that's untied.
11. Speaking of shoes, have you ever thrown one at anyone?
No, why? Am I missing one?
12. On the average, how much money do you carry?
None. I usually have hobbitt and his wallet in tow.
13. What jewelry do you wear 24/7?
Wedding/anniversary rings, and my father's wedding ring.
14. Favorite piece of clothing?
Just about any t-shirt that doesn't have butter stains on it.

FOOD

15. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?
I eat it raw.
16. Have you ever eaten Spam?
Fried spam sammiches, with Velveeta cheese on white bread. Followed by a metamucil chaser. Wunnerful!
17. Do you use extra salt on your food?
Yes. Why do you think I need Diovan?
18. How many cereals in your cabinet?
None.
19. What's your favorite beverage?
You have to ask? Dry Tanqueray martini, stirred, olives.
20. What's your favorite fast food restaurant?
The druid labs bar & grill.
21. Do you cook?
Do you even read my blog? What the fuck is the matter with you? I'm not talking to you anymore.

GROOMING

22. How often do you brush your teeth?
Daily. Not sure if that's my toothbrush, though.
23. Hair drying method?
Sleeping on it overnight. It's very long, and very thick. Does that make you hot?
24. Have you ever colored/highlighted your hair?
Probably. I'll have to look at my old receipts.

MANNERS

25. Do you swear?
Not at all. Ever.
26. Do you ever spit?
No. I always swallow toothpaste.

FAVORITE

27. Animal?
Kittens on a stick. Ever so yummy.
28. Food?
Bacon-wrapped, cream-cheese stuffed jalepenos from Sirens in Pete Townsend.
29. Month?
February.
30. Day?
06/09/1990
31. Cartoon?
Robot Chicken.
32. Shoe brand?
Birks.
33. Subject in school?
Recess.
34. Color?
Purple, the way your face turns when I'm choking you for asking all these stupid questions.
35. Sport?
Competitive farting.
36. TV shows?
The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Bastard Puget Sound cable! You suck!
37. Thing to do in the spring?
Take up the mulch from over the dead bodies.
38. Thing to do in the summer?
Use the composted human remains.
39. Thing to do in the autumn?
Watch hobbitt wield the leaf-blower while sipping #19's.
40. Thing to do in the winter?
Hot tub while sipping #19's.

IN AND AROUND

41. In the CD player?
I don't believe it's unpacked. We listen to Radio Paradise all day at the labs.
42. Person you talk most on the phone with?
My beloved little sister, Nanc, on the right coast, several times daily.
43. Reading?
Lamb, by Christopher Moore. I'm going to need Depends.
44. Do you regularly check yourself out in store windows/mirrors?
Wow. This is probably why I stopped going to stores.
45. What color is your bedroom?
Whatever color Captain Chaos had it painted.
46. Do you use an alarm clock?
What for? Don't be silly. I'm not burdened by gainful employment.
47. Window seat or aisle?
I usually sit in the jump seat in the cockpit, right before I get dragged off by the TSA.

DUMB

48. What's your sleeping position?
I never sleep. What's that about?
49. Even in hot weather do you use a blanket?
See #48.
50. Do you snore?
Apparently, that only happens when one sleeps. See #48.
51. Do you sleepwalk?
Look, is there something the fuck wrong with you?
52. Do you talk in your sleep?
Get out of my head. Now.
53. Do you sleep with stuffed animals?
I'm getting my gun.
54. How about with the light on?
Guards!
55. Do you fall asleep with the TV or radio on?
Okay. You win. Whatever.
56. Last interesting person you met?
My current host and hostess in San Marcos, CA. They are awesome. I'll be back.

mr. toad's wild ride

Ain't life grand?

Okay, to clarify the last post: my accommodations at the Z's house are superb - excellent, comfy bed, full run of the kitchen and laundry and lovely, shady, restful back yard. Couldn't ask for more. However, the seating in the room closest to my charge is a sleeper sofa. And I'm not sitting there now, or again. There are lots of options. This house is made for comfort, to be sure.

My hosts are also the most relaxed and gracious people I have ever met. Not a word about things done differently, or about trying to find dishes and cups put away by the guest and lost forever, etc. Cool people. I'll be back.

Now, about that Disneyland ride.

I'm on it. We're on it. My charge is healing well, nicely. She's pretty low maintenance. One or two trips at night (less than me, even), happy to eat what we cook, able to take care of just about all her own needs. And what a pleasure to see her, every day, seem more and more like the Tmata I know.

But I'm not sleeping. At the moment this is of no consequence. I'm here for a short time (leaving next Tuesday), and her husband is returning tomorrow, meaning I'll just be on meal duty after that. But when away from home, I can't sleep without my earplugs, and since I need to hear her, I can't use them here. So I'm a bit bleary-eyed. Afternoon naps help, just not enough.

Well, I'll catch up. Losing sleep isn't the end of the world.

hobbitt's sister is in the hospital again for emergency surgery. A mass in the upper GI tract, another between her kidney and bladder. She had surgery just a few short months ago. Her CA-125 (ovarian cancer tumor markers) numbers have tripled in the past couple of weeks. It's not good. Not. Good. We're waiting to see what we need to do. One or the other of us will be heading for K'zoo soon, certainly. It's hard for me to say this aloud, but it seems like now's the time. Time. As in how much time.

My heart aches.

Our neighbors have recently had some bad news, too, regarding their personal injury suit against the city of Carmel. Nothing frivolous; some major debilitating effects from a fall at night in a pothole on a city street. Their future is, shall we say, forever altered, and not for the good.

My friend lost his niece suddenly, unexpectedly, at the age of 19. How he doesn't crumble from the weight of his responsibilities and now this grief, is beyond me.

My heart aches. Have I mentioned that?

Okay. Enough with the pity. Back to the present. I'm in a wonderful place with amazing people whom I've grown to love. I live in a wonderful place with amazing people whom I've grown to love. I'm related to amazing people whom I'm grown to love. It is what it is, and as it must be.

Now, for a little lunch and a nap.

killing me softly with his sleeper-sofa

Okay, the first one was my own sleeper-loveseat, that I got from my mother's house when my sister and I insisted she replace it with something that was vaguely comfortable for us to sleep on. It torqued my back like a car crash, and took weeks and at least four hour-long ass massages to recover from.

And now I'm at the Z's house and their sleeper-sofa is starting to bite me. I know better than to sit there. Silly me.

valves

I'll admit it. If you haven't already figured it out, my emotional release valve is a night at Sirens with hobbitt, and a cut-throat game of dominoes Muggins.

Go ahead and sneer. Prove to me you can count in fives after having more than one Tanqueray martini.

Okay, I can't count in fives now. But I've had three big ones. Martinis, that is. My beloved hobbitt allows me to be a little tipsy. He stays designated. That's not the only reason I love him. The main reason is that I simply cannot resist.

manischewitz

Sorry to my Jewish friends about the title. I'm not going to whine here, most likely.

Here's the latest. The estimates for improving the drainage around druid labs east are $6,500, $12,700, and $25,600.

Am I the only one who peed my pants at that last estimate?

The buyers have rejected our time-of-the-essence filing. They want to proceed with purchasing our house, in good faith, whatever that means at present. They didn't show good faith in June when they abandoned their mortgage commitment without notifying us, thereby missing the contractual closing date. According to our realtor, who, bless her heart, is pretty much representing herself at the moment, believes they're going to ask us for the middle number.

Now, my thinking is this: we don't have a basement problem. We have a gutter problem. And these estimates are not for repair, but for improvements on the house. We were willing to give them a $6,500 credit last week. Not escrow, but credit. And the advice to spend up to $1,000 on gutter improvements, and then a nice vacation.

My thinking today is that we need to get this house sold. We're not greedy. We'll make enough of a profit - and offload enough obligations - with the middle amount. It really doesn't make all that much of a difference to us. Time is what makes a difference to us, at this point. (I don't want to spend another $1,000 to deal with an algae bloom in the pool.)

But it won't be a credit. It'll be escrow. And the sale will have to happen by the end of next week. Period.

Capice? Yeah, you better. I'm dialing Guido right now.

updates

Today our attorney is demanding a response about the sale our beloved druid labs east from the buyers' attorney, by the end of the business day. No answer, she'll file a time of essence. 10 days, no close, we file to keep the deposit.

I'm not going to spend that $80k any time soon, though.

Still, that's cheered me a bit. I wish I could say why.

Anyway, if we don't close soon, I'm going to have to go back to New Joy Sea if for no other reason than to take care of the pool, which we just spent $1,000 to have cleaned up after the algae bloom that occurred because the house didn't sell when it was supposed to sell. Of course, that's not entirely true. The selling part didn't cause the bloom. The freaking Pasadena weather caused the bloom. But if the house had sold, it wouldn't have been my $1,000 problem. Right?

I don't want to go east right now. I know I said I would, but there might be some need for me to be elsewhere in the near future to help out a friend. And another friend from Illinois is visiting out here on September 1st, and there's NO WAY I'm missing her company.

Well, if I end up going back east to take care of the pool, I have only this to say: PARTY AT DRUID LABS!

*sigh*

put another way

Since we've discussed the emotional effects of this past weekend, we think it's only fair to be a little clearer about the physical aspect.

First, let me say this: I drank enough water to likely place the entire west coast's fresh water supply into jeopardy. And yet I'm fairly certain I haven't peed in a few days. But I did sweat. I sweat in places I didn't even know I had sweat glands. I swear to jbgeezus that my freaking pancreas was sweating, and I'm not even sure I still have my pancreas. What is it for again?

I had to squeegee my clothes out of my suitcase. That is to say, I probably brought home enough DNA from other people's sweat that my clothing would likely suggest to the forensic scientist that I had either a) attended a concert wherein I was everybody's mosh-pit bitch or b) been in close contact with the full laundry bin of a maximum-security prison.

I'm inclined to think I'll need an EPA permit to actually put the rinse water from my next load of wash into the septic system.

If my clocks are correct, that shower I just took lasted approximately 87 minutes.

I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I had half a chance.

Right after I invented an ice suit.