I knew my plumbing issue wasn’t permanently solved, but it seemed like it was under control. Then, this afternoon, my son took a massive shit in the toilet upstairs and flushed it into the shower below. I’m not a plumber, and I can’t afford a plumber, so when things like this happen, it’s very stressful.

The stress is bad enough, but the anger is what pushes me over the top. We took this house over from Bonnie’s mom because we were too young and stupid to know any better. It was a fucking rat hole when I met Bonnie, but over the years, we’ve managed to make it livable, despite her parents’ half-century of neglect.

The pipes in this house should have been replaced 30 years ago, but instead of replacing them, her parents bought Beanie Babies, model trains, and Indian jewelry, all of which is doing everyone a fat load of good right about now. So, now it’s our fucking problem.