Thanks to the continuing scourge of the Watchmen Death Flu, the concept of writing anything longer than my own name is looking pretty bleak this morning. Therefore, my Magnum Opus on Utah as Hell On Earth will need to wait for another day.
Besides, my morning was filled with the unique homeowner’s joy of toilet repair, after I heard my girl doing something with the plunger that was sounded like a spirited NYPD interrogation, followed by the bathroom door being flung open and screeches of: “This toilet’s been malfunctioning for six months, you lazy bastard! That’s 180 days of being one flush away from having our second floor declared an EPA Superfund site! I don’t care if your sinuses are filled with the semen of Satan himself, you either fix this fucking thing or buy me a Goddamned litter box!”
So it turns out that I spent my morning servicing the flapper… which is nowhere near as satisfying or as fun as it sounds.
[tags]home ownership, dark humor, satire[/tags]
