This weekend was supposed to be the Folsom faire. I am bailing out, in the interests of trying to 1) recover, 2) clean the house in preparation for The Return Of The Wife, and 3) find out where the water bubbling up in the back yard is coming from. These are not necessarily compatible goals.
And the damned gutter contractors have stiffed me three days in a row. They've torn off the old gutters and left me with zip-squat to channel off all the out-of-season rain we've had a week of. Three days I've sat at home waiting for them, three days not a sign or a phone call. And tomorrow I HAVE to be at work. If they come tomorrow, I hope Bogar doesn't have a heart attack howling at them before I can get home.