Right now I’m sitting at the computer catching up on my blogroll, and obsessively refreshing a hot tub forum page to see if anyone’s responded to my query about our new hot tub.

Yes, I said “new hot tub.” My adorable-but-totally-redneck husband went out and bought a spa that hasn’t worked in a couple years and which has been allowed to freeze with water in it. I don’t doubt his ability to make the thing work… just his desire to actually do it.

I find I have some form of spring fever that makes me TOTALLY AGRO LATELY whenever he brings home more junk… This is the time of year I want to be getting rid of junk! I am so horny to get the dumptruck back from whatever job site it’s parked at and FILL THAT BASTARD UP with crap and drive it off to some innocent landfill!

The shit we’ve (okay: HE’S) accumulated out here is simply astounding. ASS. TOUND. ING.

Do you know that there are (and have been for two weeks) a DEEP FREEZE and a filing cabinet in my parking space? Brett dragged ’em home one afternoon and they haven’t moved since. They’re both free, old, heavy, and rusting. And he probably won’t even acknowledge that they’re even really there until I pitch a fit of sufficient decibels that he feels some form of activity would be the best way to get me to shut the hell up. Argh!

The test to tell the difference between optimism and pessimism has always been the glass test: is it half full, or half empty? I think a better test is this: do you really think that everyone is stupid or don’t you? I’ve been spending a lot of time surfing blogs (generally by clicking something at random from Recently Updated Sites at movabletype.org and seeing where it takes me) and there are a lot of interesting humans out there. (Like this one. This kid is so funny I snorted tea on my monitor.)

I went to Tahmi’s house to play yesterday. She and the ever-gorgeous Mr J have a rescue living in one of their Broncos; he’s a less-than-a-year-old, emaciated, stunningly handsome and shy white German Shepherd. (Note: if you google “german sheppard” you get two hundred thousand hits. Can NO ONE spell?) He had some kind of food poisoning and is on meds and a four-meal-a-day weight gain regimen. If you want a really beautiful rescue, call them up – rescues are the best dogs to have IMO because they’re so abjectly grateful. (Bindu’s basically a rescue.)

Tahmi and I had a fun afternoon, talking AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE (even to the extent of leaving the bathroom door open whenever either of us went so the conversation could continue uninterrupted) and looking at fiber catalogues. And she gave me some shelves. And she told me that according to her recent feng shui class, I need to move my bed because I’ve got my head pointing a foul direction.

Oh, and I need to move my altar a quarter of a direction.

Feng shui had nothing to say though about why my cat, Buz McFuz, is a crack-head. I keep telling him, “Dude! CRACK KILLS!” and in reply he just runs up the walls and back down and attacks the kitchen rug and gallops around the stairs and then says in his little I’m-not-on-crack kitten voice, “Mew?” Damn lying stealing crack-headed cat.

My sleep schedule is all screwed up. This is not particularly relevant to anyone but me unless you want to see me during the day and I’m napping. A nap sounds good about now, actually. Hey! My husband just drove off and didn’t tell me where he was going, the stinker.