After all, laughter is the best medicine.

What’s the old saying? “I could complain, but it wouldn’t do any good”. Sometimes it can be fun to complain, groan, moan, bitch (pardon my french), or otherwise let it all out. It can be a type of therapy. Especially if you’re as twisted as I am in the brain pan. The best thing is to look back over the day, appreciate you are here to have witnessed it, and try to laugh at it, or yourself. After all, laughter is the best medicine. There are a couple of links here referencing some past posts new followers may enjoy.

Yesterday we had a 40% chance of rain, according to the weather guessers on TV. So naturally we had thunderstorms and 2 inches of rain in one hour, on top of all the rain that had fallen.

Thought I saw Noah’s Ark

Now I live in a fixer-upper. You can’t beat the price with one of these deals, but you do get a surprise from time to time. Last night was no exception. The roof is old, and I have fixed a couple of leaks over the last two years. Last night during the storms, the wind reached about 40 mph with torrential rain, as in 2 inches in an hour. I thought I saw Noah’s Ark glide by, but the rain was too hard and I couldn’t see plainly through it.

Shingles, not the itchy kind.

This morning I discovered we had sprung a leak right over the dining room table. Not on the right, not on the left, but dead center. The good part? The double wide is not level, so it ran mostly to one side and soaked the carpet, instead of all around. If I had known, I would have placed the flowers that reside on the covered porch on the table and saved watering them. I could of also pre-soaked some laundry for today. Checking outside I find that there are numerous dark rectangular objects laying about. Yep, they’re shingles alright. On the bright side, I can now build the dog house and not make a trip to Home Depot for shingles, it appears there are enough to cover it. Now what was that insurance deductible?

Roadkill anyone?

Time for breakfast. My mother-in-law stays with us as she is in poor health, which I think has led to my poor health, but I digress. She decides to cook breakfast, which usually ends with the smoke detector going off. No, I’m not joking. Sausage and gravy over biscuits. Canned ones thankfully. Last time I ate her homemade ones, I nearly had to have a tracheotomy because they would not, go, down. The sausage she likes is good once it’s cooked. While it’s cooking, it smells like it might be roadkill 3 days old. I usually get nauseous and open windows. I went to the front door this time and opened it and the screen, and just stood there to get some fresh air. It appeared someone had rang the dinner bell for the flies that showed up, not a full minute later. Yes, go ahead and call me stupid. I was hungry and the smell had wafted on out. I should know better because usually if she cooks meat in anything, I wind up with an ailment that rivals the results of preparation medicine, for a colonoscopy. Michelle says I never learn not to eat her Mom’s cooking. Let’s just say I pulled the pin on that breakfast grenade, we’ll see what happens later on.

“Hey! Here’s lunch on me!

As if the gods, didn’t hate me enough. My sweet, lovable cat, Reboot. Jumps up on the

desk and assumes her spot she takes at times, in the space between me and the keyboard. Apparently, she doesn’t feel well. After a couple moments, she gave one funny sounding wet burp, and then expelled undigested kibbles. No gloop gloop, I’m going to throw up, best sit me on the floor warning. This gave me the fleeting urge to show her mine, but I resisted with great effort.

Nothing funny about a roof leak, wet dining room table and carpet, shingles blown off, or breakfast by the enema queen, but if I put it down in a humorous context, it makes it all better for me and I can smile at it.

Have a great Sunday, comments always welcome.