still no dog ... but that is likely to soon change ...

To the many (two) faithful (?) readers of this blog that asked me about the dog — which I said I was planning on getting on the weekend — I have some sad news for you. I am still poochless. Sans canine. Without mutt. Lacking puppy. Still needing a hound. Minus a mongrel.

You get the point.

I didn't get around to doing the necessary cleanup. Big surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm a serial procrastinator, plus I general dislike the chore of cleaning. Put those together and you get my current situation — constantly planning to clean up my apartment and never getting around to doing it.

Are you disappointed? You shouldn't be; you should know me better. And if you don't know me better, how can you be disappointed? Screw you for imposing your moral standards and social mores on me!

Heh.

Anyway, that's all beside the point now.

Because God has decided to punish me for not getting a dog. You think He wouldn't? That He's too busy with other things to worry about whether or not I have a pooch? A canine? A mutt? A ... you get the point.

Well; you're wrong.

Think about it: What is God spelled backward? For the dyslexic and other challenged folk, the answer is "dog."

And it's a known fact (kinda) that all dogs go to heaven. And the main part of the word "dogma," which is faith, is, again, "dog."

So where's my proof?

Well, I woke up early after going to sleep around 2:30 a.m. How early? Around 7-ish. I never wake up that early, or if I do, I'm playing golf or going back to sleep, since I don't have to be awake until at least 9 a.m. I didn't have golf and I wouldn't voluntarily give up two hours of sleep without a good reason. I tried going back to sleep and couldn't. Just kinda tossed and turned. So I got out of bed, deciding to just stay up.

Good thing I did — there was water all over my living room and seeping to other parts of the apartment. Fuck ... me.

The plumbers, who couldn't get here until 9:45 a.m., found that my water heater is pretty much rusted through the bottom, leading to the indoor flooding. It needs to be replaced, which my landlord will have to cover, but in the meantime I will have to go without hot showers for a while. And I get to clean up tons of wet newspapers that I had to use to stop/soak up the water. I had two bundles and it still wasn't enough; I had to pick up more from circulation on the way home from work.

I still have yet to clean up. I keep looking at these piles of wet newspapers and not wanting to clean it all up. I will, I just will hate it. I'm guessing four or five garbage bags — the lawn size — filled with wet, heavy newspapers. And I still will have to lay down some more papers to soak up the rest of the water. And then clean that stuff up.

Bleah. Double bleah.

Which means I need to go get a dog. This weekend.

Or who knows what will happen to me.

Which means I have to clean — and beyond the newspapers.

Bleah. Double bleah.

Random Guam Fact Of The Day:
• It rained all night and pretty much all day here. The weather sucks. And I kind of like it that way.