Tiles Today, Tejas Tomorrow

The Meteor From Upstairs: A True Story...
There'd been an intermittent leak from upstairs for a couple of weeks. Alex had called the landlords. Yesterday, I noticed the ceiling in my bathroom was lower in parts. (Not good). At 1am this morning, I wake up to a loud crash. Of course, I get excited that it's a meteorite and/or spaceship containing a super-baby from another planet who I will single-parently raise to be a nerdy journalist, with a penchant for costume changes in phone booths. I open the door to my bathroom, and take a look. There are pieces of the ceiling all over the floor. You would have been proud of me. I was brave and didn't cry. I turned off the light, climbed back into bed, and tried to get back into my dream (which involved the Mississippi splitting apart into a 1500 mile wide body of water; an ocean between East America and West America. In the dream, I was paid to ride motorcycles. That's about all I remember).
I woke up at 6, and snoozed to 7. Now I've got to put all the pieces of the ceiling in a garbage bag so I can shower and go to work. Pain in the ass. No time for Mousercise or Jazzercise or guided meditation via whale-song tapes this morning. It's time to pick up the ceiling.
The good news is: work is fun. The other good news is: tomorrow morning I'm flying to Austin, where I'll spend 24 hours with J-Blue, P-Getz, and Jorge. A recipe for ridiculousness if I ever saw one. Can't fucking wait. -Eric