paint chips

everything goes at once, bit by bit...lightbulbs, the kitchen faucet, my faith in mankind...

the mice are now pulling insulation out of the oven, and we can't do dishes because there's no water in the tap. vicious. cycle. the former president of our neighbour to the south lost twenty-two MILLION emails that have now been found...one can only imagine the why and the how. my roommate says i should have an occasional news feature as bedtime story, when the bizarre or ridiculous crosses my path. the original winner from today: police are at a home investigating something (unnamed) when a woman gives birth into a toilet...police rescue the baby from drowning (yuck!). the woman is of a substantial size, and was unaware of her condition. she thought she had gas.

and so, imaginary friends, it's off to the land of not-nod, where i lie still and pray to disappear, if only for a few hours of respite from the wickedness of the world. the waiting taunts me. sleep and dreams, these i understand.