S*#t Happens

Big and I are on our own this weekend.

Big Daddy and Little are in the woods in search of the wily and illusive North American white-tail deer. A call not 30 minutes ago informed me they were still searching-which is part of the fun. Still it would be Little's first deer and I would love to get an excited call from him.

Big has the night off and is going to a Halloween party at friendgirl's house. I don't know whether or not he wants her to be a girlfriend, but I think she would like that of him.

Sorry, Big. I just do.

That leaves Sugar to her own devices. I think the BFF and I will head down Branson Landing way and check out the soft opening of the White River Fish House. We'll then head to Waxy's for a pint or 7. Maybe. We'll see how the spirit moves us. And how long the cash holds out.

Because the point of the post is shite does indeed happen.

My washing machine went out. The water won't drain. I have a load of sheets soaking in a sea of water.

So? You ask.

Well, its one of those things that you don't plan for and piss you off when they happen because you never have funds set aside to assist in such an emergency and it sends you into a panic of where is the money going to come from? And Christmas is coming and property taxes are due and there are school trip payments to make and oral surgery to pay for and braces to buy. And self-sufficient though I am, repair is one of the things I leave up to Big Daddy to look into.

...and he's in the deer woods.

So instead of keeping my mouth shut, when he called a while ago to check in, I immediately told him about it. Now instead of enjoying his weekend with Little, he's going to worry about the washer.

Jesus!

Where is my brain?