Contain Your Jealousy

Listen, I'm not trying to make you jealous on purpose. I'd never do that. I'm but a humble blogger, an occasionally-employed TV writer, a petite kugel-maker born in an Oldsmobile on the ramp of the hospital. What right do I have to brag? Still, I think you need to know what's happening at the SJG palace at this very moment.

Hunky tattooed men have invaded my property. How many? At least eight. I've lost count. All I know is, they're drilling holes in the walls.

They're taking over the laundry area.

And the bathrooms. They're making a lot of noise. Creating a lot of dust. I can't flush the toilet. I can't do anything but kvetch. Why is this happening? I have no memory of inviting these studs to come on over and re-pipe my entire house. I like to spend money on visible stuff. Like giant wallhangings of half-naked hora dancers. Classy stuff. Let's face it. No one can see your plumbing. So whose crazy idea was this, anyway? Hmmm... oh wait, it's coming to me. Hubby. This is his doing. "Let's re-pipe," he said. "That way, we'll never have another pinhole leak that destroys our bamboo again." "Oh hubby, you think of everything." Meanwhile...

This explains why I haven't had a warm shower in days. 

How dare you?