The Most Disgusting Thing Ever

Our Exploder is in the shop at the moment. The first priority is the driver side door. They should also tell me why the "check engine" light is lit. The door should be fixed tomorrow. I will no longer have to open the door from the inside to get behind the wheel.
Daulton looked upset again when he walked into the office. Last week he was upset because his mother and step-father are divorcing. This week he was upset because someone broke into his house and stole his bike and Daulton's father's machete, among other things. The fact that Daulton listed a bike and a machete but nothing especially valuable makes me think it was probably a kid who did the thieving.
Velma's daughter came by to tell me that her mother's screen door wasn't staying closed properly. When I looked at it, I discovered that whoever installed the thing had installed the latching mechanism on the bottom of the door too close to the ground. The bottom of the door couldn't swing all the way shut and therefore couldn't latch correctly. I didn't have a drill I trusted to put new holes in the metal door for the latch, so I just used a pocket knife to shorten up the ends of the latch (it's a plastic thinger) so that the door could close all the way. It worked.
I've delayed it as long as I can. Are you ready for the most disgusting thing ever? Skip this next paragraph if you would like to keep your mind clean, and remember that I don't make this stuff up.
Beulah came to the office to tell me that George and Katie have been making a great deal of noise in Katie's apartment. Apparently, they make enough of this noise to keep Della awake at night and have even woken up Beulah, who has three walls and two rooms between her and Katie. Beulah said that Katie would have the television blasting at three in the morning sometimes. I can imagine she would, considering she is deaf and can't read so subtitles would do her no good. Beulah then informed me that George and Katie also quarrel very loudly, which would be about the most painful thing ever considering Katie's deafness, Katie's dying man's voice, and George's stroke paralyzed tongue. But then I heard the worst thing ever in my life. Beulah informed me that George goes over to Katie's for "the oral sex." I do actually think I kept a straight face when she told me that, if only because it took me a second to actually process the information. Beulah assured me that she was sorry to have to tell me that, but "that's what they're doing." She even felt it necessary to tell me that George "does that top stuff too." How she knows all this, I don't know. I don't want to know. I just wanted to vomit. You, my faithful readers, have the fortune of never having to have seen these two people, and thus, you don't have the vivid image of George's drooling mouth or Katie's melting eyeballs seared into your brains. I want to puke.
The Dell technician came by this afternoon and replaced the plastic casing around Anna's laptop screen (which included the hinges) as well as the rubber feet on the base. Anna is delighted that she can precisely set the angle at which she wants her screen.
After I drove the car over to the shop this morning, I had to walk back to the apartment. That wasn't so bad. It was maybe a mile or a mile and a half walk, but I rolled my ankle while I was walking, which made it very painful for awhile.
Speaking of very painful. I backed my butt into the corner of the dresser earlier, and it hurt so bad. I don't even know why it hurt that much, but it did. Anna kissed it for me and made it all better.
I was going to go hunting this morning, but I failed to turn on my alarm.
Blue.
I said from the beginning that McDaniels should be fired. Does anyone believe me yet? The Donkeys don't finish better than 9-7. They definitely don't make the playoffs.
My back is pretty tight at the moment. Anyone want to give me a nice massage?
People who don't read this blog: My brother
Christopher was given the address for this blog once. I don't think he ever looked at it. I will chalk that up to his indifferent nature. Christopher doesn't care much about anything. It's pretty much impossible to talk to him, even if you are his family, and it's not even because we don't get along or anything like that. We get along fine. He just never has anything to say. If you get more than a one word answer out of him, you have achieved something special. Mostly, you'll just get a grunt. If you all think I'm a talkative and enthusiastic soul, you should me my brother. He puts me to shame. The youth pastor's wife at home called us Sunshine and Happy. We're quite the pair.