So. It's raining. This is not news. Out of the past two and half weeks or so, we've had about two days of sun. When the boys walk through the back yard, there is this disgusting sucking noise with each step (think Steve Martin in that scene from Roxanne
when he's describing the aliens to the old biddies). Of course, come this summer when the inevitable drought sets in and I'm doing the watering equivalent of musical chairs I'll be ruing this day I complained (oh there will be so much ruage, people).
Reason one through one million times eleventy why having only a one car garage suckeths muchly.
Mom: [re-enters house] Honey, you need to move your car.
Me: [standing outside bathroom, naked as the day I was born] !!!
Mom: [rightfully interpreting my silence] Nevermind, I'll move your car.
Me: [not really meaning it] Are you sure? Because, like I can't. I'm like totally naked. (Apparently being caught unawares turns me into straight up Valley girl. Who knew.)
Mom: Now I'm totally going to make you move your own damn car.
Me: The neighbors will never recover, Mom.
Mom: Fine. RUIN ALL MY FUN.
Today is the final day of annakovsky
's brilliant serial Life under the Observer Effect
. (I'm eagerly, desperately anticipating part 5.) It's The Office
fic, Ryan/Pam, Jim/Pam, and oh hell, it's just so wonderful, a lovely little story to fill the ever-increasing void that is the never-ending writer's strike. Great world building, characterizations, banter, very much taking its cues from screwball comedies of old. THANK GOD for AK's recent obsession with Cary Grant is my final word on the subject.