Patricia....Patricia, dear, over-medicated Patricia. Came up last night to use the toilet and to check her key out and how it would disturb the cats if she entered. They could care less. Then she sat on my couch, nodding off and almost falling on the floor. I made her dinner and she took it to go. While she was here and dinner was cooking, I was reading a book on emotional blackmail, which she failed to notice in her somnambulant state. I am hoping the plumber can come out today and she won't need the services of my bathroom. Part of her problem with her toilet is she flushes non-flushable cat litter down it, so, sure it clogs. Like a cement plug. She wonders why her plumbing is shot to shit, so to speak, when she abuses it thus. She can't use her dishwasher or disposal and has a fit if the upstairs neighbor's use theirs. But for goodness sake she is a menace to building plumbing.
After she left I ate and relaxed some more. Turned the air on for the boys and me. Practice some on the mandolin and watched a late ball game. Looks like today is an all day AC day for the house, with my lesson tonight I think it is wise to keep the house cool. May go to the Lugnuts ball game on Friday and see the fireworks. Patricia wants me to come down Wednesday to play Jeopardy, which is in summer repeats so I think I will pass and come up with sundry excuses and not be blackmailed into going down. See, Hyphen, the book is helping.
I am tired and headachy today. May break down and take some aspirin and hope Ursula Ulcer doesn't complain. I am into pre-lesson dread. I did more guitar than mandolin this week, I think what I may need to do is 'play with myself', and by this I mean tape myself playing and play along with the tape. I don't have The Urinal to play with anymore. Must make do.
And so, as Billy Pilgrim might utter, it go...so it goes.
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