Handyman Raymond should be by sometime today to finish my front door and hopefully start the windows.
Oh Brother. My poor front door is not happy. I think I need to tell Handyman Raymond, that we need to start from the beginning and rebuild this doorway. It has been worked on literally a minimum of ten times now and in the afternoon, the light comes streaming through the gapping side space. We need to start from the beginning and rebuild this doorway. No more patching It is not working. And I cannot be comfortable with a front door like this. I am not asking. I am telling. This is enough already. I cannot believe that no one can repair a door. This is ridiculous. I am really pissed. Handyman bullshit day after day after day. I want to be finished and I want it COMPLETED.
Okay, now that I have ranted, I called Handyman Raymond, and he is going to Home Depot in the morning, and repair the door. (Cross fingers).
I’ve been doing Spudfit’s Spudtember – eating all potatoes for six days now and feeling great.
Here is a Spudfit Potato poem posted by Tim Steele, author of The Potato Hack:
The sixth of Spudtember,
The roasted, the boiled in pot;
I know of no reason
Why the Potato Season
Should ever be forgot!
SpudFit and his companions
Did the scheme contrive,
To make us all eat potatoes
and feel alive.
Threescore barrels, laid below,
Filled with Yukon gold, ya know.
But, by God’s providence, and a Facebook like,
SpudFit roared out on a funny bike!
A stick and a stake
For King James’s sake!
If you won’t give me one,
I’ll take two,
The better for me,
And the worse for you.
A spud, a spud to stuff in your throat,
A penn’orth of yeast to choke him,
A pint of beer to wash it down,
And a jolly good fire to roast him.
Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring!
Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save SpudFit!
Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!