I woke up this morning and went to use the bathroom. Butt on the toilet, I thought how it would be a bad day today. I then told myself that was a silly thought to have since everything seemed to be running smoothly and I felt okay except for maybe a little lung tightness. I did have a negative dream, but that involved me assaulting some guy who was chasing some girl in a threatening way, and not anything bad happening to me personally. Or Tom.

But then I flushed the toilet, went to wash my hands, and saw it in the mirror. The dark circle in the ceiling about 3 inches in diameter. Yes, our nearly 34-year-old roof is leaking. There are also a couple of faint lines visible a few feet away from the spot.

Last night I told Tom that I noticed it smelled musty in here despite how clean I keep it and the scented things I have and that I suspected a leak somewhere with all the rain we’ve had. He disagreed. Yeah, well maybe now he really will get that, yes, his wife sure does have the nose of a bloodhound compliments of being born hearing-impaired. As I was lying in bed listening to audiobooks and falling asleep last night, the smell annoyed me.

So now I’m worried that our savings is about to be lost to this shit and this will make it considerably harder for us to move anywhere when he retires. Yes, money issues are way better than health issues, but we seriously may have just lost quite a bit and it could really affect our future.

Realizing that next door would know more about this house in some ways than we do, I asked them for recommendations and if this truly is the original roof as I suspect it is. Bob says it is. They did their roof in 2003. The guy that did it is retired. The guy’s BIL replaced their windows. Their place is absolutely gorgeous. I drool over it every time I see it. I love their textured walls.

“Well, you oughta come over here and make me feel better,” Virginia said in response to my compliments.

Let’s just trade houses.

The canvases and frames came today, and getting these giant posters into them and hanging them was a bitch. I should’ve stuck to stickers, canvases or maybe tapestries.

In another dream, I was out somewhere with a woman and her son. They needed $.60 for something and I dug out the change from my purse and gave it to them. The woman thanked me and I said it was the least I could do for them helping me. I don’t know how they helped me, though.

In the last dream, Tom was saying that he wouldn’t like a mannequin with molded hair. Then a young girl was going to take a shower in my bathroom, so I went and peed in Tom’s bathroom, which looked much bigger and different than it really does.

I asked Tom if he was for or against immigration, and he’s for it. This is because even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever move to another country, he still wants the option, and feels it would be hypocritical of him to expect to be able to move to other countries while denying others to come here.

I’m still torn on it. Norma’s for it because immigrants are willing to do jobs that most Americans aren’t, but come on. Tom would gladly have done one of those jobs when the economy collapsed. But all the fucking foreigners were hogging them up.