Humor will soften despair, and if that doesn't work - drink!

And so, here I am, temporarily homeless.  Until one is temporarily homeless, one cannot fathom what this is like.  It is a sad story, one that did not have to happen.  Although, as sad as I am over my own situation, I cannot help but feel for the thousands of people who are in shelters in Japan, because their homes are also lost, and to a disaster much more grave.

My disaster is small, unless I measure it against only my experiences.  Then it is massive.  It is massive because it is happening to me.  It is massive because my home sits quiet and sad, on a beautiful spring day.  A ruined cabin, surrounded by the splendor of a world becoming reborn.  Wow, when I say it like that, I want to cry, but I'm wearing makeup and WalMart raised the price, so I shall withhold my tears until a later time.

Eight days.  Eight days since I was forced from my home in the pouring rain, with seven frightened pets crammed into a Chevy, fleeing to my mother's home.  Now, if Mama lived in a Doublewide, we'd have a damn good country song here.  But, she lives in a stick built home, and even set to a catchy tune, it lacks flair.  My career in country music is over before it's begun.  (There's the humor, in case you missed it.)

So, back to the disaster.  Oil spill.  (I just said it like I was the Tinman.  It still sucks, but at least I'm smiling now.)  Fifty to one hundred gallons of overly-priced, ought-to-be-filled-with-gold-flakes, kerosene, dumped into my basement.  I can't get into why it happened, because that isn't blog worthy.  I will say that most of it isn't there anymore.  The sump pump took care of it, pumping it into the yard and the creek.  Now this is a pretty bad thing.  The DEC is out there organizing a major clean up, and I hope everyone watches their step because the snow melted, and the amount of dog shit is out numbering the amount of kerosene by two-to-one.  All right, before this post becomes a novella, or worse yet, a novel, I'll get to wrapping it up.  Now, I do not by ANY means find this spill funny.  It is a major disaster that didn't have to happen, that's ruined my house, my belongings, and screwed the environment worse than it normally is.  But, that being said, when that sump pump pumped out that pink kerosene, into the hose the lawn guy ran over last year, it must have looked like the Bellagio, a great pink fountain befitting to a pink-tiara-wearing, broken hearted, diva.