May 29: Nice Glass of Scotch, Kitchen Ceiling, Chicken Little

They were in one of those states that come from having had enough to drink but not enough to ward off an early hangover, and as they made their way from the 116th Street station toward Claremont, Ives began to suffer from a headache and was thinking that he would have a nice glass of scotch at home and take a couple of aspirins...

Ives is out on the town with his wife, Annie.  They've just attended a couple of Christmas parties, done some shopping, and then they head home.  In less than an hour, they will be standing on a sidewalk in front of a church, staring down at the body of their beloved son.  Their lives are changed forever.

I'm sitting on my couch, watching Jimmy Fallon, drinking a wine cooler.  It has been a long-ass day.  This morning, shortly after I left for work, the ceiling in my kitchen collapsed.  My wife called me as I was driving to tell me the bad news.  I thought about turning around and going home, but didn't.  I went to work.  Got some overtime.  Then I went home.

It was a mess.  Ceiling all over.  Insulation.  Standing in my kitchen, I looked up into my attic, and I saw bits of sky through the roof.  It started raining a little while later, and the water started drip-drip-dripping into the room.

I spent five hours cleaning, and now I'm exhausted.  Absolutely brain dead.

Sometimes I wonder if God has something against me.  Last Friday, the massive, unexpected bill.  This Friday, the sky is falling.

Saint Marty is tired of being Chicken Little.

Sometimes, the sky really is falling