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M.I.A.

Me- in action, sometimes inaction, but always- acting out!
 

GRRRROUT!

It's been an ongoing problem. The tile, that I adore, downstairs has a glitch. Maybe not so much a glitch, more like a vendetta!
See, the tile that is downstairs isn't an indoor grout, it's an exterior grout. I feel like knowing this makes me a mild dork- I feel like knowing that the floor wasn't leveled before the tile was laid makes me a medium dork. Wanting to redo the tile myself if I were staying makes me a super-dork (HGTV got's nothin' on me!).
So, I'm cleaning house the other day, often times a fruitless effort because some things can't really be cleaned (to be disclosed in future rant about the shit-hole that is my residence). So, yes, cleaning- and a rouge fleck of deviant grey grout liberates itself from the confines of the narrow tile alleys and STABS ME! Yes, this small piece of angry grout takes its frustration out on me, nearly crippling me. It's just a flesh wound- nothing too tragic, the rebel was sharp but only about the size of my pinkie finger nail. I dislodged it from the padding of my foot with minimal blood shed.
So, wear slippers and get a tetanus shot before stepping into the apartment that idiots built!

and an update--- I beleive LUGIE MAN has a cold or sinus infection of some kind. We have stepped up the frequency of items dislodged from the depths of the torso. 2 nights ago I was coming home and could hear (FROM WHERE I PARK MY CAR!) the sound of what I can only describe as him trying to muffle a weed-eater. KWAHAHAHAHA-uh.
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