here's my gripe…


Life sucks when there’s no coffee

Last summer, otherwise known as “The Upheaval,” we bought a small espresso maker at the thrift store. It was such a find! Smaller than the behemoth we were using before, better layout, stronger steam. It was practically perfect. So, of course, I broke it this past week when I forgot to put the cap back on the water well. It boiled over and now it won’t brew coffee. At first the steam nozzle would still work, but now that is effed up, too.


It’s amazing how a little thing like that can ruin…everything. We pulled the behemoth out of the garage and this is day two of trying to clean it out. I don’t know what the hell has happened to it, but I can’t get the water to run clear and now I’m wondering how long we were drinking sediment coffee when we were using this machine everyday. *gag*

I guess if the worst thing going on in your life is not being able to make coffee, things are pretty good. But I still feel like crying right now.

the hobos vs. the evil little evils: a halloween/christmas story

i so shouldn’t read the quick comments on other people’s blogs sometimes. i just spent about two minutes laughing myself silly coming up with that title (and another two minutes laughing myself silly when trying to explain it to hubby), and i wasn’t even involved in the conversation. *sigh*

*uncomfortable silence*

ok, moving on…

i thought i’d try something different tonight. i’ll probably regret it as soon as i hit post, but i don’t have anything better to blog. a couple of weeks ago my dad dropped off, yet again, a couple of shopping bags full of junk that used to be mine when i was a kid. one of the things happened to be a folder. i opened it up to see what was inside it and as i’m looking at forms and old mail, i realize that it’s not my stuff, it belongs to my dad. the only thing of mine in the folder is a paper that i wrote who-the-hell-knows when. there’s no date on it, but i do recognize my handwriting. i don’t remember writing it at all. nothing about the story sounds familiar to me in any way. but hubby said i ought to post it in installments on here. probably just so you can all make fun of me. 😉

so, here we go…

Sam the Cat

Once, a long time ago, there was a cat named Sam. He lived with a little old man named Uriah Clemens. They lived in an attic on Petunia Ave. in Columbus, Indiana. They lived a happy life together.

One day though, Mr. Clemens was thrown out of the attic because he couldn’t pay the rent. Now he had to find a new place to live, find a place where he could get some money, and feed six mouths. (Sam had four kittens. He was a she!)

Mr. Clemens was discouraged because he had no place to go except the streets. He didn’t want to become a bum, he also didn’t want Samantha and her kittens to get run over.

Sam saw how unhappy her owner was so she decided to look for a home that they could all live in. She was a very brave cat. She fought big dogs from all over so she thought she could handle herself while looking for a home.

She searched all over the city looking for a place to live. She found several places where people could live for only five cents a week. She ran to get the master and children and lead them there.

She found Mr. Clemens sleeping on a park bench. She meowed as loud as she could to wake him up. He saw her and said, “What’s the matter?” She meowed again and then started to walk off in the direction of the boarding houses. He followed her down the street when a car hit Sam. The kittens ran about, the driver got out of the car apologizing a million times and saying he’d buy the guy a new cat or give some money. Mr. Clemens looked at Sam. She was still alive and breathing, the car had run over her tail. She got up and started to lead the way again.

When they arrived, there was a sign that said, “No dogs or cats allowed.”

to be continued…or will it?
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