Another Day, Another Nickel

I guess I should check in, although I'm still feeling pretty puny today. Headache, sore throat, coughing — all that head cold nastiness. But I'm at work, even though I would rather be home in bed. I'm out of sick leave (my company only gives us 40 hours a year, and those were all gone two weeks ago), and if I'm not here, I don't get paid.

Yesterday we had a fabulous rainstorm. (When one lives in the desert, every rainstorm is pretty fabulous.) My roof leaked. I called the home warranty company, who kindly informed me the roof wasn't covered on my policy. Then I called — who else — Frank. He came over an hour later, looked at the leak, told me the problem, then came back this morning and fixed it.

There's something good, I think, about having an ex-suitor come over to fix something. That's the fact that I didn't fix myself up for his arrival. I had showered in the morning, thinking I would go to work, then got back in my jammies and crawled back into bed. When he arrived around 3:00, I was still in jammies in bed. I didn't brush my hair or anything, and just stayed clad in the Very Unattractive Victoria's Secret gray t-shirt jammies. Even stripped off my top to reveal a camisole with no bra underneath each time a hot flash hit me while he was there. And I didn't care what I looked like. Eureka!

This must be why all the ex-girlfriends maintain their friendships with him. He knows how to do everything around the house and does it cheerfully. I told him I'd have to take him out to dinner to thank him, and he said that could be arranged. I then called him a scoundrel. Ah, but he does it so well!

Men! Can't live with them, can't live without them.