I was recently listening to C89; a local station (which I rarely do anymore). I was listening fairly late Friday night and they happened to play this hot and horny little gem. This remix seems amazingly better than the original version of the song:
I’ve been a lot busier at work trying to juggle past, current, and future projects. This has added a level of stress that was amazingly increased this last week when I came to check on my parents’ home to find that the washer in the basement had one of its hoses burst.
Oh yeah. :’(
So after wading through an inch of water which had soaked all 1,400 square feet of the basement, checking to see if anything needed immediate salvaging, and consulting with Crystal I decided to call their insurance folks followed by a call to a local contractor to have them help shore up the mess. It ended up requiring 35 or so blowers, 7 dehumidifiers, and removal of all the basement carpet. So much for taking it easy. The original plan was to check on the house, pick some blueberries, and call it good. The contractor and the insurance person both said that this wasn’t an uncommon problem. My suggestion to everyone is: replace the hoses from your washer with the steel mesh type if they are older than 5 years.
So now I need to tell my dad when he gets back from Africa that his basement flooded. For some reason, given his track record, I don’t think me taking care of everything and doing everything I could to make sure the home’s structural integrity was maintained won’t make a difference in subsiding the subsequent wrath. I could be wrong. After all, wasn’t that the purpose of me coming by once a week or so to check on things?
As the move date approaches we are packing things. I am excited about this move. One particular aspect is the liberty to move with leisure so we have the time to go through things and finally purge gobs of stuff that we’ve simply held on to because we didn’t have the time to really go through them and make decisions.
I have mixed feelings about getting in touch with people I used to know. One school of logic that I have held is that if those folks had been good friends we’d have kept in contact. On the other hand some of the people I’ve gotten back in touch with have been more conversational than people I have kept in touch with. I suppose everyone is different. It’s like we all left the nests, found ourselves, and then came back. Some gloat, some are humble, and some just are. Nothing has surprised me.