I survived. To live another day.
You would think as much as I longed to come home, prayed for it, hoped and dreamed that once I got here (almost) I would have countless stories and anecdotes. And I do! But I seem rusty with the writing, like I feel rusty with the camera.
The best way to conquer a problem is to just tackle it. Right?
Do good fences make good neighbors? I am totally use to having a privacy fence. I am totally use to the kids who use to live next to me in FW banging on the door and asking permission to go into my back yard to retrieve a ball etc. etc. etc. The kid even asked if he could use the un-used bike in the shed. (of course I said yes and even wanted to leave it with him, but somewhere I have these grandiose ideas that I will exercise with it someday). Now I have a bunch of hooligans who run thorough my back yard as a cut through to the next street all day and half the night. Last night they were in my back yard doing God knows what, examining my jar of caught june bugs which I am going to pulverize and then dilute with water and spray all over the plants they are chewing up! WTF? Aren't kids suppose to be glued to their computers and X-box games? I opened the back door and said, "Do you all play back here?" maybe it was in a menacing voice, all I wanted was for them to ask permission and I would have said yes, instead they ran off!! A gang of about five of them, next door neighbor and his/her toadies ranging in age (and I guess) from four to twelve.
I wanted a privacy fence anyway, for the garden opportunity and I'll admit it, for the privacy!
To distract myself from the kids running through my back yard under the cloak of night, I decided to dye my hair since it's about five weeks and the roots are getting out of hand.
My hair has steadily been turning red under the sunlight and effects of previous dye jobs. Now, I have always had very very dark hair, chestnut brown my Mother called it. Not black, but almost. Irish hair. So I get a box of dark brown thinking it will be cool!
Holy S***. I have very light skin and naturally a reddish tan, exacerbated by the rash I encountered while spraying the 21 rose bushes with some sort of fungal black spot destroyer. I look like a washed up, washed out Irish bag woman.
After a great nights sleep (thanks to several slugs from the bottle of NyQuil placed strategically by the bed side) I wake up and walk out on a totally drenched carpet outside closet housing the water heater, water softener and air conditioner. Holy S*** again!
Joe has taken off for Central KY to meet up with the kids, while I wait for the plumber. He came and it is not the water that is causing the problem, its the AC. Somewhere in the corners of my mind, I knew it was the AC after the AC Incident in Miami (when the ceiling came down ....I should have had my money refunded, I forgot all about that!!)
Good thing, no charge from the Plumber for the call.
He must have felt bad for me because of the hair.