Repent, California! and my own personal wicked ways, plus a sadist and Thor

We've been hemorrhaging money recently, and the most recent was the sprinkler guy. My sprinklers "work," but only marginally. Like, water comes out of them, but it doesn't cover the whole lawn or anything, and a couple of the sprinkler heads just kind of bubble. Anyway, I called a guy my mom recommended to service them so that the new owners don't call us up and say "Hey, I thought you said the sprinklers work!" and I have to show them the air quotes.

So Sprinkler Guy comes, and he looks like one of those guys that wears overalls and chews straw. Like, long flowing white beard, that kind of thing. And on the back of his truck is an orange paper that says "Repent, CA!" Oooo-kay. Well, he does a good job on the sprinklers and doesn't charge much, so whatever. He's kind of chatty, so every time I start to wander away, he starts talking again. Eventually I figure that I don't have anything better to do, so I just take a seat outside and settle in for some chatting. And while we chat, I offer him a glass of water. He declines, because he has water in his truck. He gets his water at the co-op. "You know the co-op?" "Yeah," I reply, "I go there all the time." "I get this brand of water -- it's from the foothills and it's been filtered three times. I know the guy who makes the water." "Oh yeah?" "God." There's a long pause, and all I can think to say (don't ask me why) is "I know the guy who makes the beer."

I've been meaning to write this for a long time. I had to log in to Blogger the other day, and had to use my "backup" password, which I had forgotten I used. Why, I wondered, had I used the backup password? Oh yeah! Because when Toltec 1 was here, he left himself logged in to Blogger, and I wrote a glowing post on his blog about how great and hospitable I was, and how cute and smart, too, I think.

Then I was hanging with a fellow teacher, and he said "I FINALLY got to change my password." Huh? Thought I.... Oh yeah -- he lent me his school computer on the day that the message came up "it is time to change your password. Enter your new password now." So I did -- Mockularocks.

Anyway, I think the moral of that is "Don't let Mockula around your computer. All of a sudden she gets a big head."

I got my brows done today, and I don't know why, but it hurt more than it has hurt EVER. Usually the brow lady pats the little muslin strip over the wax, stretches it out a little, then rips, then applies her cool fingertips to the area. It's not too bad at all. But this lady was like SmearPushYankSmearPushYankPushYankPatYankYank. It was in super-fast-forward! Then she plucked some strays, and she was the hurtingest plucker, too! I don't know how it was different, but I think she was grabbing the hair from the very end or something. Yikes! Brow sadist!

We had our first realtor come visit today. He left a card, as is the custom. And his name was Thor M. Realtor to the gods. I'm not kidding.