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It two-thirty in the afternoon. I have gotten out of bed to:

1. Shower.
2. Eat a sandwich.
3. Make some tea.

My pyjamas and I are enjoying Operation: Lost Weekend extensively.

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And then when I thought I'd make some foccacia our garbage disposal broke and flooded the kitchen.

AHAHAHA I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE GOTTEN OUT OF BED.

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When R returned, he brought That Girl with him.

She tried to fix the pipes.

Yeah, that went well.

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And then we all got drunk!

Well, as Saturday nights go, this could be worse. It looks like one of the pipes has warped (cheap-ass PVC crap) and no longer fits in the gasket. I feel this is a metaphor for my life, in some intangble way.

It's not that the universe is out to get me, just to annoy me.