Making Mountains...

We are all finally home from our “vacation” up North this fine holiday season. Mark made it back after 15 ½ hours on the road with a trailer towing a free hot tub, big ass ladder and a treadmill in the bed of the truck. About mid California the darn trailer decided it would be fun to throw all but two of its lug nuts on one tire and, had he not pulled over to check on something else, would have succeeded in its evil plan to toss the wheel and all the trailer contents on the freeway. Thus the added hours to his travel.

We had an uneventful flight home – which is more than can be said for our flight up – and Lily and I were home to survey storm damage by 1pm. Nothing too horrid: one of our trees came down on the shed, both canopies blew over (one made it a fair way down the canyon) and some glass doors we were storing in back of the house (under before mentioned, half-way-down-the-canyon-canopy) shattered. BUT the new roof did its job and we were thrilled to find that there was no water in the house that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Now I face the trip clean up and a mountain of laundry. Seriously, it’s a freaking mountain. I kid you NOT:


See the little mountain climber scaling the side of the laundry on the landing? At least the pile on the sofa is clean and just needs a severe folding. Mark’s heading outta town for a gig today so it actually all needs to get done if I don’t want to send him naked out on the road. Come to think of it, that might be funny. I guess I’m being dramatic though; some of that pile does belong to the girly and it doesn’t make a spit of difference if that gets done before or after he leaves us.

Lily has turned on the beat machine thing on the synthesizer and is dancing around the room, occasionally dropping by to bang on the keys. It must be music time. Oh, and I see that my dance card is full.