For every stupid piece of insulation that I have to staple into the roof rafters, and stupid nail I smash into, trying to contort up there, I realize I'm one baby step closer to living in my new house. It makes a thoroughly shitty job a bit more bearable. I just wish I didn't have a fucking hangover. Every time I hop off the ladder *woooosh* the world does a carwheel and I gotta cling to my own knees, to keep from falling off. Oh, and I stink. It's hot up there. I smell like what garbage would smell like, in hell. Blaaagh, thank gods we ran out of staples, otherwise I'd still be up there. Home Depot isn't far. He'll be back soon, then back up in the hole.

Oh, and no more drinking for Lili. THIS TIME I MEAN IT, goddammit.


Hehe, that reminds me of when I was talking to Opti on the phone, a while back, and did a shot, almost vomited, said "agh that sucked, no more" giggled, and took a shot 5 minutes later. I'm such a masochist.