Right now there is a toilet flushing just outside the office. I mean it is continually flushing and this is driving me crazy to the point that I want to go in and try to fix it myself, which is a hilarious thought, because I have little to no capacity in the plumberian way.  The noise is not so bad, it's just the thought of all that water going to waste. Is. Making. Me. Crazy.

At least I think it's going to waste. I have no idea if where it all goes, but my thought is it winds up back at some reclamation plant. Anyway, it's driving me crazy the thought of it.  Funny, what drives us crazy.  The vuvuzelas at the World Cup irritated me for about two games and then I just kind of started to like it. Sounds like bees, which I like.

I"m not bothered much by bugs really.  Like, I know people who will freak the fuck out if they see a roach. Me? I either scowl at them and scare them off or I kill them quickly and with great skill.  Like the roly polys in the bathtub. LERD, there were like 20 of them this morning and I have NO idea where they are coming from as the tribe of the ones in the front yard have died off or rolled to greener pastures. Maybe they all holed up in the drain?  But they don't spook me much.

I don't like flies, but that's mostly cause they are annoying in general. I am not bugphobic.

I have a weird way I like my pillows. I have them coded with particular pillowcases. Sometimes I think my husband takes delight in mis-ordering them at bedtime so I'll have to get things arranged again. 

I like eating meals out of bowls. Like I have these really awesome big white bowls for pasta or stir fries and I love eating meals out of them. It's gotten to the point where I nearly hate using plates.

I'll watch any food show and the weirder the better. I have no issue with watching Andrew Zimmern eat bull penis soup, or munch on tarantulas, or eat roasted guinea pigs or drink nearly congealed blood, but damnit if I don't have to turn the channel when he starts cracking into a skull for the brain. Good god I can't handle heads.

I really like books about serial killers and people who can live amorally and without guilt. I love reading crime novels where the protagonist is as brilliant as the sociopath.  I am neither a brilliant hero, nor a brilliant sociopath so I get to enjoy both sides of the battle.  (I know I know, I'm smart. I mean BRILLIANT, which I am not).

I enjoy rudely drinking milk from the jug in the middle of the night because it seems like so much trouble to get a cup, fill the cup, rinse the cup. Rude, I know.

When I write, especially on the computer, apparently I purse my lips in this way that my husband now says is my "blogface". He always knows when I am blogging. I was just now doing it which reminded me to point it out here.

I don't like shopping. There are a lot of steps (I don't seem to like many multi step situations), and I find it challenging to find what I want. 

I use too much vinegar in my dressings. Not for me, but I'm sure I do. 

I have an acute sense of smell which makes me crazy if I don't like your smell and even crazier if I DO like your smell.

The water is still running and I am still tempted to stage a lavatorial intervention but instead I think I'll just walk away.  Given my inadequacies at multistep projects and general lack of technical brilliance, I think I'd just make things worse. But it led to a blogpost and me making that funny face, so I suppose that's something.

Anyone know of any good crime novels I should read this summer?