Did you get the memo? You know the one yesterday? Oh, maybe not. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to overlook you, of course you are important to me. Please accept my sincerest apologies, oh the memo? Well yesterday was national hand-your-contractor-his-ass-on-a-spit-day. I’m sorry you didn’t know. It would more fun to celebrate together. You know after I finished grinding my teeth and pacing up and down the driveway. Well, no matter, we can celebrate together the next time it rolls around.
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After last summer’s drought, I told myself I wouldn’t complain about the rain, and I’m not, but wow, the frequent showers this month have made it difficult to complete work. Green things are thriving without any assistance from me, which is the best way. My assistance leaves much to be desired where green things are concerned.
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Do you ever wonder after a lavish wedding if the bride and groom look back when they are courting the seven year inch and say, “Wow I wish I would have a simpler reception instead of a sit down dinner for a hundred fifty so that I could have invested that portion of my wedding budget into a portfolio to pay for marital counseling later.”
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So, my better half reads one or two books a week. His job seems to allow more free time than my (ahem) job. Go figure. Anywho. At one point five paperbacks a week there are lots of books in the house. Our reading taste don’t intersect often, but I will read from his library occasionally, because it seems ridiculous with soo many books lying around. Case in point: I’m reading Stephen King’s Lisey’s Story. At least trying. I’ve gotten bogged down. The protagonist has just been tortured with a can opener. I’m not terribly squeamish about content, but this scene, described minimally in the book has left my inner imagination spinning out of control.
What is so perplexing is I read this years ago and never gave it much thought. I guess the difference is I have spent the past few weeks getting to know King’s protagonist, where as in the other book the victims were largely devoid of soul.
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Onward. There is a low chance of rain and a paint roller calling my name.
I read Stephen King and it usually doesn’t bug me too much. I’ve found in recent years he does throw a few things in that make me cringe. Have you read Duma Key? I liked that one better.
I never really read any of the book’s by your linky guy – he just was too far out for me.
My husband and I don’t read much of the same style of book either. I read either fantasy type (Gaiman) or horror (more King style, not Koontz). He likes mysteries and crime type. I like mysteries, but not crime type mysteries.
Ramble. Ramble. Ramble.
‘Do you ever wonder after a lavish wedding if the bride and groom look back when they are courting the seven year inch and say, “Wow I wish I would have a simpler reception instead of a sit down dinner for a hundred fifty so that I could have invested that portion of my wedding budget into a portfolio to pay for marital counseling later.”’
H ah aha haha haha ha! Best suggestion ever.
calling professionals to get the job done is an oxymoron – it always takes waaaaaaay too long, and then you have to call them back to fix something they did, which takes them weeks to get to because they are somewhere else screwing up someone else’s house. Truly, I could do all that for myself and save the labor costs. Ha ‘labor’.
sari, I’ll try Duma Key I think we have a copy. I don’t read King very often. He’s an inventive writer, but I don’t read him unless I have any idea about the stories pretense; AKA a synopsis from my spouse. I really like the way King uses words, but some of his plots are a little out there for me.
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meno, If only we exhibited signs of sanity when it came to nuptials.
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Maggie, throw in bad weather and trouble keeping help, and you have a disaster waiting to happen.