Bug on the wall

Wouldn't you love to be a bug on the wall when her relatives come?  Her perceptions are so screwed, she might tell them anything.

Hourly variations in weather seems to be a sign of spring in this country.  Fall comes all at once--sometimes over night, but spring spends days just testing the waters, before making a commitment.

Learned a lesson yesterday.  Don't leave your husband at home alone with a phone in his hand.  I got back from my meeting yesterday afternoon to find out that we're retro-fitting drawers into the lower cupboard that didn't get them last summer.  After I got here, we were off to the bank, and then to the manufacturing facility to make a payment on the quote we got by e-mail earlier.  This is the same facility that we worked with last summer, and they had all the info, knew what cupboard we were talking about, and were confident in their quote. It was a little pricey but it is a retro-fit.  We crunched the numbers and decided that  we can cover the cost with David's income tax refund. Then first thing this morning we got a phone call from the designer telling us that he had mis-quoted and the price was actually about 30% less.  He was at the house a few minutes later, returned our cheque in exchange for a lower one, and every thing is now in motion.

The crazy old woman decided to clean her oven this morning.  She turned it on, and then as it heated, the room started to smell, but she wasn't worried.  It's not that cold out and she could open the window, and maybe the front door to create a cross breeze.  The silly twit forgot that she spent a fortune last summer on her kitchen and had a wonderful range hood complete with a strong exhaust fan that would take care of the problem quite nicely.  By coincidence we were talking about her yesterday and wondering why she hadn't been around lately.  David had assured me that she was still around but I just hadn't noticed her.  He must be right, as I found a paint stain on one of her pretty new white bras this morning, despite her wearing an apron most of the weekend.  How in the world does she get paint stains on her bras?  This isn't the first time.