Mama Told Me There'd Be Days Like This, But They Don't Phase Glamis

It's not even the dog days of summer. Nope, it's the marsh days of spring, and as I noted yesterday, I knew something wicked this way was coming, because that's the way it always goes. I draw my philosophy from an episode of Seinfeld when Jerry realized that everything balances out in harmony: good matches bad, and bad matches good..

While everything was being redone downstairs and I was on the phone with State Farm (No, those commercials that show there is relief from insurance companies are fantasy when it comes to sump pump - they are not an act of nature, even if flooding is). I will eat the costs, which I'm sort complacent with because I got Federal taxes back and put the money aside for new furniture and a driveway. For now, hot showers are more important.

I love my Mt. Pleasant home and hope she'll take it easy on me for a while. I know these acts of chaos happen, and I hope my share is over for the time being. I know, too, it could be so much worse. I can't even fathom what that is like.

I thanked Henry and we talked about his work and how I hoped he got the majority of the money I paid. He laughed, "Nope. It goes up the ladder." This is the way for most work...they who labor on the ground, hands-on, and in the trenches, always are compensated least. The system is set up this way.

The good news is that I had a day in my house to work on lesson plans and grading. Glamis, of course, laid at my side basking in the sun. Lucky dog. She pays for nothing. She simply lives the life in anticipation of walks, biscuits, squeaky toys, socks, and Purina. In return, I get nose prints on the window, dog hair on everything, the occasional barf-o-rama, insecure hovering, and opportunities to take cute photos like that above.

It's funny. Everyone you sort of whine to about the housing drama seems to relate and have similar, sharable stories. As I told Henry, "I'm simply thankful to have a home to take care of. This is lucky, indeed."

It does make me want to cry, though. Life is frustrating, but knowing such SNAFU is in American context, I can't complain. The struggle, I know, is more difficult than what I whine about here.

Phew.