Stupid Water

Two weeks ago, we had a torentual rain. It was like our house had been on fire, and to save us, Superman had taken the top from a water tower and dumped it on our house. But then we got water in our basement. So thanks, but no thanks, Superman, you douche. Batman would've just put out the fire with his fists.

We didn't get a ton of water in our house. Maybe an inch, and only in really in the parts of our basement that don't have carpet. So it's not too bad. But my office in the basement, and my office has carpet.

 Pretty much immediately after we got water in the basement, I had a party, and I had friends staying with us, and then we left for Comic-con. So we did not get a chance to properly dry the carpet.

So now my office smells like musty stinky death. Eric claims it doesn't stink, but I'm starting to not trust his nose.

At any rate - I'm totally neurotic about writing. Like hardcore. Everything has to be just so and just right, and I'm having a hell of time not working in my office. But I don't want to work in my smelly office either.

We picked out new flooring today, and it's a fake wood laminate, which will actually work better for rolling the chairs around. But it probably won't get installed for awhile.

Which means that either I have to learn to deal with writing in the musty office or learn to write somewhere else. And I have to learn to deal with it fast, because I have a ton of work to do. Like a totally completely impossibly obscene amount of work.

So I'll have to deal with it. But not right now. I did some editing, and that's work. That's something. And now I'm watching Project Runway. Later I'll read Rules of Attraction because I heart Paul Denton.