Much better now

I didn't hit my 6 mile goal, but whatever. I feel much better. It was one of those days that I knew in my soul that I wanted to be anywhere else but the office, but didn't leave. Man, was I in a rotten mood.

Once I hit the pavement I started feeling like me again.

I ran a nice little 4.5 mile loop that I can easily increase to 6 or 8 if I'm feeling a desire to run about a bit more. I like loops. There were a bunch of people out on the route, which surprised me. I am generally the only person I see out running whenever I am in the streets of Manchester. I guess I haven't been running around the right neighborhoods.

It is a cold, clear, and beautiful night out there. I was actually overdressed. I don't have any options for cold weather jackets aside from my soft shell, and that is a toasty little creature. By the end of the run my pockets were stuffed with my gloves and hat. I would have shoved my jacket into my jacket pocket if I could have.

Oh - Lance Armstrong (via Nike+) congratulated me for hitting the 250 mile mark. That was nice of him. He's popped in before to announce my best mile time, which is also kind.

A few minutes after arriving home, I was pleasantly surprised to find out I had screwed up P's work schedule (even though she reminded me of it last night) and she was actually coming home. Things are always better when she's around. For example: I had planned on eating potato chips for dinner, but with her home I was insipred to cook. I didn't cook for her, mind you, but I was a little embarrased to eat cheddar and sour cream chips when she was right there... It was good all around.

We watched the L Word. Again, what a dumb show. There was one kinda sweet moment when Bette gives a soliloquy about her boss (played by an overly plastic surgeoned Cybill Shepard), but that was about it for any sort of genuine dialogue.

I noticed that the lesbian night at The Planet was on Thursdays. That has been my experience in real life - at least in Boston. Is that a universal thing?

"The cats are fine, but..."

Not really the way you want a conversation to start. But that's what I was told when I called home from the road, after a text message was sent reading, "call before you get here."

Uh-oh.

"The cats are fine, but there was a little incident."

Incident?

Here's the innocent beginning: Apparently P went to turn on the hot water this morning and, when nothing came out, she turned it off. Turning the spout to no avail happens sometimes in our old house. For some reason the pipe leading up to the upstairs bathroom will freeze up in the chill of winter. I don't think it happens anywhere else in the house.

Also necessary to know for this story is that we have two bathrooms and while the sinks look identical, the handles for the hot water actually turn in an opposite direction from each other when turning on/off. In other words, one of them needs to be turned clockwise to stop running, while the other one needs to be turned counterclockwise to achieve the same result. It's one of those little quirks that we know about, we've laughed about, but haven't done anything about because it doesn't impact anything on a larger scale.

Or so we thought.

Back to the story at hand: P turned the hot water knob completely in one direction, and as nothing came out she went to turn it off. She couldn't remember the direction that turned the water off (it sounds silly, but would you if you didn't see the physical evidence of water stopping?) so turned it in the direction she thought was correct and assumed that all was back to normal. She left for work, thinking nothing of it. What she didn't realize was that she had actually turned the hot water knob to full blast, and while it didn't work initially, the water did start flowing as the day went on and the pipes warmed slightly.

You can see where this is going.

By the time she came home from a hard day at the hospital, the upstairs bathroom was flooding and water had seeped through the floor, into the kitchen directly below it. A decent chunk of the ceiling gave its life. The water continued to drip from the kitchen ceiling, through cracks in the kitchen floor, and into the basement.

Like I said, old house. It's one big domino effect.

Poor P felt terrible, and did a major cleanup effort prior to my arriving home. I didn't see any of the puddles - only the small amounts of detritus that continue to leak from the ceiling. And the grody yellow drips that fall every few minutes.

Luckily, the musical episode of Scrubs was on tonight, and that was a great pick me up. That, a little vanilla tea, and two cats to pat.

Oh, well. What can you do? Here's hoping our home insurance covers it!

My television debut

I am about to share something secret and private with you. Something I'm almost ashamed to admit... I visited the L Word website. There - I said it.

The show is like a train wreck, you know? Each week we watch, each week we ask why we watch, and then we watch again the next week.

On my brief visit to the site, I saw the growing list of characters, and noticed that one is named Jodi (spelled correctly, I might add). Upon further investigation I discovered that Marlee Matlin is joining the cast as an "intensely talented and free-spirited sculptor" who will eventually sleep with Bette. I wonder if, when it eventually happens, Bette will be wearing the fabulous white Stella McCartney suit that she wore in seasons past. Now that would be hot.

It seems the L Word may become the next Will and Grace. High profile cameos and whatnot. People showing they aren't afraid to play gay or gay friend. I don't think that came about on Queer as Folk - maybe it's because that show was truly unwatchable...