I have always found Sunday night to be a depressing time. For a procrastinator it was a constant time of doom during school years, facing homework still to be done. Friday was so comfy with the whole week-end ahead and then it was time to face the music. I would swear each week I wouldn’t put things off the next weekend. I was lying to myself. I cultivated that practice into a lifestyle. If my lifespan were to follow the same pattern, I wouldn’t die until I was 150.

Somehow I know that were I to be given a fresh start at life, the second time around AmeliaJake would be sitting here on a Sunday night staring at the blank first page of an essay or the first problem in a math assignment. Sigh.

If Teddy Roosevelt were my age now, he would have been dead for 10 years. That doesn’t exactly follow logically, but it is a nice little factoid.

I am not waterlogged, but I have suffered my wall being torn down, having the dining room sealed off with dehumidifiers and dryers going, not to mention moving a bunch of stuff. Last night, I was sitting here and I heard ANOTHER LEAK – this time in the living room where one had been fixed before for mucho money, imagine replacing cast iron pipe. When the plumber came, no matter how many faucets we turned on and toilets we flushed, no leak appeared.

So now we wait.

I will be taking pictures. At least there is insurance. Oh, to go into the dining room, you have to unzip this cool temporary vinyl door. I am thinking I could find uses for such a thing.

“Well, gee, officer, when I went to bed that vinyl door was right there. Could it have been cat burglars?”

And for my daily whine: I want someone to come in an clean my house and hold at gunpoint people who choose a counter instead of a trashcan, who pee all over the toilet , who leave plates, glasses everywhere and who would be amazed to learn there are drawers and closets for clothes.