Today is about mud, dirt, smut (not the good kind), and grime.

Woke this morning to the crack of thunder and pelting rain. Water was coming in the back door. Jeff went out and restored a drain path for the runoff, and we avoided a full catastrophe. The forecast? Why, more rain, of course.

Marcel was shaking his head this morning. I crept up and took a quick swipe of his ear with a q-tip. Ew. Vet has a 5 pm opening--poor old Mr. Moo will have a very special afternoon. (Marcel is today's LJ icon.)

I fell asleep so hard last night--face down, crossways on the bed, fully clothed. I had a dream that we went to a party at Beth's house, which was on a lake in Arizona. There was a storm, and lightning hit a turrety-looking thing on the house. It caught fire. The party broke up right quick after that. Nobody stayed to help with the dishes, even. McCauley Culkin was there--he had some kind of floaty device in the lake because he wasn't a good swimmer. Van Morrison showed up early, but disappeared and I didn't see him again. He had grown a beard and it did NOT suit him.

Leonard, if you see this, I am friending you. So there.