a peek inside the fishbowl

Mark is wed to a corpse, a walking (barely), talking (barely) corpse that smells like garlic and Vicks VapoRub and with a cough that sounds like an angry harp seal. I’m still sick. My body has refused to let go of this damn cold. And it’s beginning to get to me. The only time I feel good is when I’m steaming myself in the shower.

I was up all last night, every hour on the hour, with hallucinogenic dreams about the Pope.

Living Room update: Sherri and Enrique are coming to look at the floor tonight, and the electrician is coming to install pot lights tomorrow. He was here yesterday, a very charming fellow, to suss out the electrical situation and see what’s what. You know, I consider myself a smart girl, but an awful lot of what he was saying went right over my head. There was lots of talk of joists and drilling and patching. I did what every self-respecting individual would do in my position; I just nodded my head and went along with it.

If it weren’t for the previous owners of the home I think we’d be screwed. Fortunately for us they bred fish in the basement (!), and had it all rewired. From what little I understand of it, this rewiring is going to work in our favour.

Let’s hear it for the fish!