So much to write about. Why do I never write anymore?
There has been so much to write, and I have been lax. Catch up post so next time I write I can do one of the cool things I want to write about.
About two weeks ago now disaster struck my wonderful new dwelling. It was just starting to emerge as a vaguely homelike place, when a plumbing mistake caused a leak to sprout in the ceiling in my bedroom, directly above the place where the remaining un packed boxes were stowed. I was away from the house for a at the time and it was approximately 36 hours before I discovered it. Bad times. We turned off the water and cleaned as best we could, but a lot of stuff was wet. My bedroom was a shambles, and every surface in my living room was covered with wet things that hoped to dry.
Two weeks later things are looking better. The ceiling is not yet fixed, but nothing important was destroyed, and between the plumber who caused the problem and the insurance company neither my landlord or I have to pay for anything. I've also convinced them to use the excuse of replacing the ceiling to add in a few more lights, since that room is awfully dim when the sun goes down. It's once again slowly on the way to looking like a home.
Then there was the strange series of events which led to me attending a tigers game in a Suite with 5 Germans, for free. All the beer and food we wanted, free broadband internet access, a great view, plus TV's for instant replay, and access to the cigar room, which I didn't see because the game was too good. We even won. I taught the Germans how to fill out a score sheet, and on the way home they blasted a CD full of drinking songs, and David Hasselhoff.
There was a Rocky Votalato concert, which I should write up before I forget too much. Post Pending.
And then there was the day when the Canadian dollar hit parity with ours. I'm still not over that.
About two weeks ago now disaster struck my wonderful new dwelling. It was just starting to emerge as a vaguely homelike place, when a plumbing mistake caused a leak to sprout in the ceiling in my bedroom, directly above the place where the remaining un packed boxes were stowed. I was away from the house for a at the time and it was approximately 36 hours before I discovered it. Bad times. We turned off the water and cleaned as best we could, but a lot of stuff was wet. My bedroom was a shambles, and every surface in my living room was covered with wet things that hoped to dry.
Two weeks later things are looking better. The ceiling is not yet fixed, but nothing important was destroyed, and between the plumber who caused the problem and the insurance company neither my landlord or I have to pay for anything. I've also convinced them to use the excuse of replacing the ceiling to add in a few more lights, since that room is awfully dim when the sun goes down. It's once again slowly on the way to looking like a home.
Then there was the strange series of events which led to me attending a tigers game in a Suite with 5 Germans, for free. All the beer and food we wanted, free broadband internet access, a great view, plus TV's for instant replay, and access to the cigar room, which I didn't see because the game was too good. We even won. I taught the Germans how to fill out a score sheet, and on the way home they blasted a CD full of drinking songs, and David Hasselhoff.
There was a Rocky Votalato concert, which I should write up before I forget too much. Post Pending.
And then there was the day when the Canadian dollar hit parity with ours. I'm still not over that.