Mr. Fix It

Monk has been in Vegas for a few days, acting as Guest Judge for the Miss America pageant.

Not really, but the real reason he's been in Vegas has to with his job, and we all know by now that I don't pay attention to what he does for a living, so one guess as to how much I know about why he went to Vegas, and what he's been doing there. The sad thing is, he explained it to me about three times before he left, and once yesterday. Something to do with a convention center, limo rides to fancy dinners, and drinking expensive scotch on the company dime.

Monk's Vegas Vacation concludes today, which is terrific. We can return to our regularly scheduled program. I've missed having him here in Dallas (not that we see each other during the week these days), especially when I've been feeding the dogs, taking out the trash, folding the laundry, picking up the yard... It's like having your pool boy go on strike- suddenly there's too much to do, no time to do it yourself and worst of all, no hot guy to look at while lying in the sun and sipping iced tea.

(I’d really like to be the kind of person to whom this analogy would make sense. “Oh! Yes! I know exactly what you’re talking about! In fact, just last summer Volari decided to take some classes and left us in the lurch for a whole month! You can’t imagine how inconvenienced we were to find leaves in the deep end every morning.” Also, I don’t like iced tea. But I wasn’t sure how to keep that scenario fluid and realistic at the same time. Is it the norm to lie around the pool drinking orange Fanta with a bendy straw?)

More important than the day-to-day tasks: There is a rather large hole in our kitchen ceiling that needs a patch and a light fixture. Monk and I spent nearly four hours last Saturday on a mission to replace a few lights around the house. The mission was successful in that we discovered exactly how little we know about light fixtures and electricity in general. Unsuccessful in terms of the big hole in the ceiling where a light should be. With wires coming out of it.

It’s great that Monk returns this evening, as I haven’t had the time (or the inclination) in the past four days to attack said hole with tape and plaster, and instead have been pointedly ignoring the horror every time I enter the kitchen.

Kind of like I’ve been pointedly ignoring the fact that it just doesn’t feel like Home without the huzz.

But mostly I'm excited about getting the ceiling patched up.

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