Ah, the Joys of Home Ownership

Last night we're sitting in the living room and CuddleBug notices the floor is wet. Really, REALLY wet. Not, "Winnie pee'd on the floor" wet. Something more. Something bad. We looked up at the ceiling and the tell-tale signs were all there. Water spots. Shit.

LoveBug drug the ladder in from the garage and removed the a/c vent. Then he boogied to Home Depot for a shop vac. Seven gallons of water were removed from the ceiling and we thought all was well.

I just got home a few minutes ago and it looks as if Lake Funky Bug is now a reality in my living room. With the a/c damned near off (as much as it can be in Florida) we have a constant drip that has knocked plaster off the ceiling.

LoveBug is beyond frustrated. He's driving back from Boca tonight so he can tackle this issue, seeing as the repair guy he contacted this morning hasn't seen fit to return our calls.

CadiBug is bitching because I won't check us in at a HoJo's. It's 79 degrees in the house right now, and she is certain in an hour we will be suffering an inferno because I've shut the a/c off for the night. Never mind that it's 10:24 p.m. Never mind all that. She is a teenager, and she is suffering from certain heat exhaustion.

I'm wearing boxers and a paper-thin tank top. It's like Survivor, except that I'm still fat like Richard Hatch.

I remember when I was the one that Ma called to program the VCR. Now I don't even know how to vaccuum water from the ceiling.

I miss having a superintendant and maintenance man. Sure, he was pervert and a con artist, but at least he fixed stuff between smelling panties from the hamper.

This is Funky, and that is all.