*deep cleansing breaths*
Jul. 22nd, 2009 12:10 pm...Crap. They're not helping.
I am so sorry that I've been a never-ending fount of complaints lately. However, I'm beginning to suspect that someone slapped a "Hello, my name is Job" sticker on my back when I wasn't looking.
Remember how I said I was sick of things breaking? Sunday, we discovered that the water pipe into our refrigerator had sprung a leak, soaking the hardwood kitchen floor and dripping into the basement. Several floorboards in the kitchen are warped now. The plumber is on his way this afternoon to hopefully repair the house's water shut-off valve so a permanent fix for the fridge can be attempted.
I really, really wanted to visit the fangirls in Pittsburgh, and it looked promising with the airfare sale. However, trying to fit it in around a family reunion drove the price up and made the times ridiculous, so that visit will have to wait. At least![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
darsynia is able to attend the Chicago con the following weekend.
My camera also broke recently, so I'm defiantly taking the cost of the airfare and getting a nicer camera, instead of a basic one.
But the biggest source of my rage has been my husband in the past 12 hours. I'm tired of his emotional state outranking everyone else's, and I'm tired of being the details person who then gets crap for both reminding ("nagging") and not reminding ("why didn't you tell me?").
And in conclusion, a big FUCK YOU to Russell T. Davies and his Torchwood miniseries. I know a lot of you said it was amazing, but unfortunately he mashed my biggest emotional trigger so hard and so often that the end left me feeling bruised and depressed, and completely angry about watching any further episodes.
I just want to go home and sleep.
I am so sorry that I've been a never-ending fount of complaints lately. However, I'm beginning to suspect that someone slapped a "Hello, my name is Job" sticker on my back when I wasn't looking.
Remember how I said I was sick of things breaking? Sunday, we discovered that the water pipe into our refrigerator had sprung a leak, soaking the hardwood kitchen floor and dripping into the basement. Several floorboards in the kitchen are warped now. The plumber is on his way this afternoon to hopefully repair the house's water shut-off valve so a permanent fix for the fridge can be attempted.
I really, really wanted to visit the fangirls in Pittsburgh, and it looked promising with the airfare sale. However, trying to fit it in around a family reunion drove the price up and made the times ridiculous, so that visit will have to wait. At least
darsynia is able to attend the Chicago con the following weekend.My camera also broke recently, so I'm defiantly taking the cost of the airfare and getting a nicer camera, instead of a basic one.
But the biggest source of my rage has been my husband in the past 12 hours. I'm tired of his emotional state outranking everyone else's, and I'm tired of being the details person who then gets crap for both reminding ("nagging") and not reminding ("why didn't you tell me?").
And in conclusion, a big FUCK YOU to Russell T. Davies and his Torchwood miniseries. I know a lot of you said it was amazing, but unfortunately he mashed my biggest emotional trigger so hard and so often that the end left me feeling bruised and depressed, and completely angry about watching any further episodes.
I just want to go home and sleep.
