So far this week, we have broken the toaster. The bathroom fan began shrieking, and the lawnmower briefly made a strange whimper until Tom removed the stick. In the middle of the night, hooves pounding through the yard woke us both up. A loud baby something-or-other is shouting ravenously in the trees. My guess is blue jay, but crow is also a possibility.
This is what we had for dinner last night: sauteed chicken legs with tomato-garlic reduction, jasmine rice, tiny tiny tiny tiny green peas warmed in scallion butter and sprinkled over the rice, baby mixed greens. But tonight we eat chez Waterville, which I expect means pizza.
P.S. And now one of the pipes on our hot-water heater is emitting a light mist into the basement. Hm.