I am not happy. And when Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
Actually, that's a lie. The dogs are the only ones here with me and they seem perfectly content.
I, however, am not happy because I am ready for Tropical Storm Beryl to fly away.
She's been here since Sunday. This is hump day. Don't you think she's worn out her welcome?
|This is Beryl arriving near Jacksonville late Sunday night.|
First, while I was taking a nap, water started dripping from one of the screws in the dining room ceiling vent. By the time I discovered the drip, the dining room table was wet, two of the chairs were wet and had ugly stains, and the floor had a nice big puddle.
I got up on my trusty step stool and discovered the vent was loose. The screw from which the water dripped needed to be tightened. Try as I might, I could not turn that screw.
Sadly, I had to force myself to march next door and ask hot, hot young Anthony to come over and take care of my screwing needs. I was a little sad that Anthony was wearing his shirt, but oh, how very nice it was to have him in my little house for a visit. He tamed the screw. The water stopped dripping.
I was concerned that I had a leak that was coming from the roof to the attic to the vent. Maybe I do, but Little Chick thinks it's condensation because of all the humidity brought by Beryl. Favorite Young Man will check the attic to make sure the Christmas decorations stay dry.
Thus, Beryl = a leak or increased humidity that made a mess. That's a good enough reason for her to go.
But after I was happily screwed, something much worse happened. I took the sheets off my bed and someone ran out of the bed. It wasn't Anthony. It was
Yes! La cucaracha was sleeping in my bed. When I pulled back the sheets, he ran under the mattress. Suddenly possessing superhuman strength, I managed to lift the mattress, but he disappeared.
I sent out SOS texts, and Little Chick came over with upholstery cleaner for the wet dining room chairs, bug spray that won't harm the dogs, and roach motels. She was very sweet and helped me feel better.
But now that I've seen one cockroach in my bed, I know there are others even though the sheets are clean. The roach motels haven't had time to do their job.
So, now the question is this: Unless Beryl takes all the roaches when she leaves, where am I going to sleep?
Anthony, oooooooh Anthony. Do you have any extra room in your bed?
Infinities of love,