Friday the 13th ain't got nuthin on today

I thought I was supposed to have a shit day yesterday. I was expecting it yesterday, so I guess that means I got it today just to show me? FML.

Yesterday the maintenance guy replaced the dodgy motor on our swamp cooler. Awesome. That should stop the damn thing from freezing up and making the switch spark. Today the swamp cooler decided that not only should it start to smell like ozone and burnt plastic, not only should it make sounds like it's being hit with a sledgehammer, not ONLY should it NOT blow any cool air out of any vents as well as make the switch spark again, but today should of course be about 103 degrees. Even with all the curtains drawn and blinds closed and every appliance possible turned off it was still 90 in the house. I was afraid there'd be another dead dog by the end of the day, but luckily they seem to be okay. The kiddo wouldn't keep still or take a nap for love nor money which means by the time sunset is here he's red as a strawberry and nuttier than a fruitcake.

But, where is the intrepid landlady? The homeowner sworn to keep things running smoothly while she cashes my rent checks? Well, she didn't call me back until after 5 or six voicemails and after 5pm to tell me she could not get a hold of the maintenance guy, and the secondary maintenance guy is in Phoenix. However, if we wanted to pack up everybody, the stuff we'd need including sheets, towels, and pillows we could camp out in one of her partially furnished mobile homes. That would have been great if she had offered it, oh, 5 hours ago! Amazing. I'm still not sure when or if someone will fix this thing tomorrow when the temp is supposed to be a measly 105. I am seriously considering going to see legal aid Monday morning and seeing what we can do about this, maybe even breaking the lease and moving.

In other Saturday the Fuckteenth news, I made a gorgeous stew for dinner. Lamb cooked in a stock with red wine, rosemary, garlic, carrots, onions, and celery until the lamb practically dissolved off the bone. My mom, who has never really had lamb but maybe once or twice, took a bite and declared it tasted to her fubared taste buds like plywood pulp. Oh joy. I don't take this personally, she really does have fucked taste buds, but now I'm stuck being the only one that will eat an entire 3 quart crockpot full of lamb stew. *Sigh* I hope it freezes.

However, that coffee date I was going on next week has been bumped up to tomorrow morning, which is pretty cool. I hope I don't look too much like that celery I pulled out of the pot after a few hours.