I hate it when my socked feet are wet.

MeCow, this one’s for you.

Sad thing is - I’ve got so much to write about I don’t have anything to write about. Here’s a short and sweet list from a few weeks ago:
1. Last month grandparents came to celebrate the big 6 with Birdie. That was fun.
2. Same weekend we went to a Pumpkin Patch and picked pumpkins, did a corn maze, went on a hay ride. That was fun.
3. Spent this past week trying to catch up on house work. I’m trying hard to lift the deep fog I’ve been under about this house and life’s circumstances. I’ve made a decision. This house is going to feel like home one way or another. It’s just so hard to put any amount of money into any aspect of this house and not feel like I’ve wasted it. I mean, if this house isn’t going to be ours to change and do with as we please (because Mr. Jerk-wad and his Client decided to take us for thousands of dollars and leave us high and dry and suing to get it back means we will in turn only lose it again to the lawyer we hire) I’ll do what I can. So what’s the point? And, yes, I’m still mad as blazes at those two and all involved!) But I retreat: We’ve got this butt ugly bathroom to live with (which we had planned to change) and I desperately need to do something with it. I thought, “OK, go with the hot theme right now, make it retro. Find some pinks and browns to make it work.” I had it all planned and drawn out. Well, the jerk took our money so I have to live with it as is. (I’m trying, I really am. But since it’s a major struggle to go the grocery store, it’s kinda hard to let go. I know, I know, I need to.)

Oh, so you want to see the butt-ugliness with which I’m forced to live. OK, here you go, just remember, you asked for it:

I must say I had a wonderment of excitement a few weeks ago when the crack in the sink basin got so bad that the underside of it fell out down into the cabinet and it would no longer hold water. No, no, no, it was not an enjoyable experience when at 12:30 in the morning (as I was getting ready for bed) I was brushing my teeth and all of the sudden my socked feet were soaked. Now, People, let me tell you this right here and right now: I can’t stand my socked feet to be wet. I don’t mind wet feet, but wet socked feet is just down right disgusting to me. It grosses me out, makes me green in the gills. OK, back to the story. Let me ’splain a little more: I like my toothbrush to be thoroughly wet when I stick it in my mouth. I like the water to be running while I brush. I like the water to run at more than a drizzle, but not full force either. I brush a good two minutes according to my beloved toothbrush. So I’m standing there, water running somewhat loudly, brushing with a toothbrush that makes noise, pieces of the porcelain sink hit the plastic drawers I have below the cabinet (I think not mush of it, thinking the sound came from elsewhere, like hubby in the kitchen) then as I begin to rinse my teeth and my brush, my feet (remember they are socked) get wet. No way, not happening - I look down and what do I see but a rushing river pouring from my cabinet to my feet and into the rest of the bathroom.

OK, so you say, “why didn’t you notice this before it ran down the floor?” Well, see, it didn’t happen like that. I immediately turn off the water. I open the cabinet doors and the 40 days and nights of rain have been found. (And all of North LA wonders why it didn’t rain for the month of October.) More flooding. OK, so now I’m not only throwing dirty towels onto the floor to stop the water from going into the hall, but now I’m grabbing cleans ones from the cabinet and SmockDaddy is bringing them directly from the dryer. Oh, I almost forgot, remember those plastic drawers I mentioned - they were all full of water too. All six of them and all the items in them were wet as well.

This was Friday the 7th, actually Saturday the 8th. So who are we going to get to take care of this sink on a Saturday. I get it cleaned; Saturday, at a much more decent hour hubby calls the Realtor to let him know we need our sink fixed. He leaves a message with probably the dumbest person on the face of the earth. No call backs of any kind, as she said there would be, to let us know when and how things would get fixed. OK, Sunday - nothing. That’s OK, it was Sunday. Monday: let me just say, “it’s not my fault Mr. Jerk-wad is Italian!” That is absolutely no.excuse.what.so.ever.to.take.a.day.off. Columbus “discovered” America by accident! Don’t go using him as an excuse not to fix my sink!! Tuesday: SmockDaddy calls again. What sink? What message? We don’t have any notes about a sink being broken? OMGOSH - you idiots. FIX MY SINK! Guess what? They finally did.

Here is a much easier to live with bathroom sink.

What has not been said? Well, just think Hershey Chocolate - Hershey Special Dark. YUM, right? Yes, for chocolate, but not for a freakin’ bathroom. I mean really, People, who wants a potty the same color as Poo?

Except for the socked feet - I’m actually delighted with the fact that the sink cracked. Now, if only the potty . . .