phosfate

Woke up this morning to laundry room floor with a quarter-inch or so more water on it than I generally prefer. Cleared space. Re-sorted laundry. Hoping to find a cause at some point. Also hope rain will stop so I can take soaking braided rug outside to dry, or at least decompose in the outdoors.

Car has thrown shoe. More precisely, thrown an axle boot. I have no idea what that is, but it is being fixed, along with the dead headlamp. I only took it in for an oil change. God thinks he's funny.

Watched most of Millennium Season 2 over the weekend. That, my friends, is some damn good TV. You get Charles Nelson Reilly as José Chung vs. a cult that's nothing like Scientology, Darren McGavin as Frank Black's dad, Mary Magdalene in junior high, assorted demons and devils, an angel or two, flesh-eating bacteria, the earwormiest pop music accompanying wonderful torture and murders, and a really crappy painting by Hitler. Best Buy's got it for $19.99 right now, and it's well worth having. (The only disappointment is the godawful extras and commentaries. A Morgan and Wong show, but no Morgans or Wong at the party, not that one can blame them.)

Made Tommy a strange hat, and finished her Comet the Wonder Horse sweater. Alas, last week I heard the dreaded Obitsu Snap!, and had to send off for a new part to fix her. She keeps giving me the whole "Oh God...I can't feel my legs..." thing, then acts all pissy when I point out her lack of a nervous system. Disassembling her and doing a spinal transplant should be fun. For me at least.