Damage Control

For the last two days, I have been trying to keep the situation managable around here. We had a freak heat wave, about 50 degrees, which brought a thunderstorm and flooding. The rain had dripped in, down into Caroline's closet, through the floor and onto my bed. I'm still airing the bed out.

We purchased a kitchen table yesterday, and chairs. The legs of the table wobble, and one of the chairs is actually a lawn chair, but you can't argue with the price. We had it delivered, and were told the delivery was free. After everything was moved in, we were informed that we had to pay 15 dollars which we didn't have.

We waited for him to pull away, just in case he decided to slash Caroline's tires.


This morning we found Roommate #3 passed out on the bathroom floor, after two solid days of drinking. She was so dehydrated, she could not stand. We took her to Urgent Care as soon as they opened. She decided it would be a good idea to lie to the doctors, and told them she had only had five drinks total.

"So we're playing pretend, are we?" her best friend said when he arrived, "This is what happens when you drink tequila."


I'm sick of damage control. Imagine what our lives could be like if we didn't always pick up the pieces? How much we could get done?