Pancake Land gave me a bunch of flyers, for hookers, from Las Vegas. I call them trading cards. That’s what they look like. My favorite is the one with the chick(prostitute) riding a little kid tricycle. Awesome.

Hold up. Nami is making a terrible ruckus and I haven’t even had coffee yet. I’ll be right back.

As it turns out, I can take great comfort in knowing that Nami, however stupid and irritating, can, in fact, tree a raccoon. Unfortunately, by the time I got my camera to capture the proof, our masked friend had vanished. If I had had my coffee by now perhaps I would have taken my camera with me, or at least not stopped Nami from barking at it, long enough to get my camera. But alas, my name is not Billy and this is not Where the Red Fern Grows. All I wanted was quiet. I had not really been prepared mentally for Nami to become a coonhound first thing this morning.

Yesterday, Le Duke’s washer went out on him thus providing the prefect opportunity for me and Taco Planet to swap the washer and dryer out with the new ones that were in storage. This worked out well for me, because Le Duke was going to have an old extra dryer, that works, hanging around and I offered to take it off of his hands.

Appliances for new house. Check.

Some more good news is that the big wholesale order that Pancake Land and I need to get knocked out is now due sometime before February 10 instead of sometime this week. That brings the stress level back down to normal.

I need to get Pancake Land over to the house so she can tell me what I need to work on next. I don’t want to have to paint the rest of the house just to find out that she doesn’t like it and then I’ll have to paint it all over again. I am so ready to be done with this process. It is not the process that is so exhausting, it is the waiting around for stuff that just drains me.

Enough sitting around and typing. I’m off to lay tile. More soon. ~SC