Sometimes They Come Back.

I have allergies, I have termites, I have an overgrown garden, I have a blog, I have a computer, I have a comic strip...so much to prattle on about, but first I will fixate on the thing keeping me from all the rest: my allergy does not stop with medication.

Okay, maybe fixate is the wrong word, because with allergy medication, fixating is not possible. It is possible to appear to be fixated on something, but I can assure you, that stare? Nothing coming in these eyes.

My house still tastes good to the earth-dwelling bastards who systematically took two of our trees and a shed. I'm glad something shares my love for the house, but like all bad relationships, I don't know how to get the termites to leave. The exterminators came today for the third year, and treated the soil. That's all you can do, I hear. Burning them tends to cause more damage than it prevents, and eBay doesn't sell nukes.

I've run out of witty things to write today, so I really have no way of pulling this around to leave you laughing, but once we hit the really hot weather and everyone's yards (mine include) dry to crisp harmlessness, I might have a few things to say that don't trail off into something I can't even recall at the moment.

Sometimes They Come Back.

The Boiler Explodin' Blues.

I got the boiler explodin' blues,
My ol' boiler, it go boom.

Well, I got the boiler explodin' blues,
My old boiler, it went boom.

Well my daddy went and left me,
Left me with this evil boiler room.

Early Monday mornin',
That's the Monday 'fore today.

I said early last Monday mornin',
A man come here to say,

Said, "You need your filter changed soon,
but I won't do it for you today."

So my boiler done exploded,
Oily smell fill up the place.

I said my boiler done exploded,
Flipper valve...ain't no trace.

If I ever get some money,
I'm gonna hit them with a case.

Well, when my boiler 'sploded, it made my kitten jump.
Blew off all the ventpipes with an lightbulb-breaking thump.

Now I'm waiting for the smell to clear,
My Puppy, she done howl.

I'm waiting for this smell to clear,
My poor Puppy, she done howl.

Ever since that man come in here,
She won't shut up no way no how.

Now I'm dyin' and I'm chokin',
Don't look like I will last too long.

I'm dyin' and I'm chokin',
Oily smell done filled my lung.

When I'm dead maybe Jesus'
Cartoon gon' be bought and hung.

The Boiler Explodin' Blues.

Let there be light.

Let me just brag for a moment and say that if people would listen to me the first year that I say something, things would get done a lot faster.

Our big '70s-era kitchen light, the one that was pronounced dead about three years ago, is working. Perfectly. Two hours' worth of work--much of which was spent on line in Home Depot and soaking the paint off screws--and it's done.

We can see what we're cooking again. Oh...my...God.

Let there be light.