Shit. Three weeks before the big move and what do I do? Burn a fucking hole on the top of the television. Jesus Christ. I’m a goddamn freak. This is what happens when you operate on just a few hours of sleep and then decide to foster a shelter dog. So I tell the organizers of this animal welfare volunteer org that I’m moving next month, and I want to foster a dog but please give me one that’s well-behaved and non-destructive. Well, the one I got is quiet enough, except that she doesn’t walk on a leash. And she doesn’t eat. So I end up having to carry her to go outside. And then while outside, whenever I tug the leash, she flips out and cries. I know, clearly she’s got issues and I just need to be patient. Patience is what a budding dog sitter/trainer must have.
So, I decided to keep her company by working out in the living room last night, instead of under the protection of my bed tent. It had just poured and thundered outside, so the air was nice and breezy. Unfortunately, that also meant the mosquitos were out. Well long story short, I used a mosquito coil. I propped it up with its metal/foil stand and put a thick plastic lid (I know, I know) underneath to catch the dust. Normally, I put the coil in a stainless steel bowl, but that was now being used for dog food and water. Well, just so happened that this particular evening, I opted for double coils. I wasn’t thinking. Plain ands simple. To make matters worse, my nose is dead. I can’t smell jack. And if I do ever get a faint scent of anything, I assume it’s coming through my neighbor’s vent. Yeah, that’s biting me in the ass now.
This morning, I wake up and what do you know? There’s a huge fucking hole on the top of the tv. Yes, I should have thought. But I didn’t. And yes, I know: should have, would have, could have. Please. Spare me. So I just searched through all the for sale ads in town. No televisions. Guess people don’t buy them anymore. I just spent 20 minutes scraping off the plastic from the lid. Jabbed my thumb with the Leatherman. Day is starting off just great. So I guess there’s nothing to do. It’s a shit old tv, not really worth shit but I have a conscience. I’ll have to tell the landlord. Guess he can deduct something from the deposit. Or I may call maintenance, see if someone can melt a plastic patch there? Shit, I dunno. Now I have to drag the dog outside and look like a dog abuser (in addition to being a moron). Lovely. When John finds out, he’s really gonna wonder about the woman he married.
View from the top. See? Like I said, a huge fucking hole! Next to the hole is my Leatherman micra. The same one that sliced Mr. Zhang’s finger. Also the same one that jabbed my thumb. I should add that my ayi gave me that boat/ship music box– it’s supposed to bring good luck (smooth sailing). Also, note the roll of white tape mangled earlier this month by Ozzie.