The glamorous life at House Fly continues, dripping wonderfully into the summer sun like a moth into a hot flame.
After a full day of scrubbing and mopping, Le Fly exited his residence this morning in order to give license to a car filled of clowns to loiter inside of it with extreme circumspection. Upwards of 95% of these people are actually incapable or serious about buying homes — but rather find it amusing to tour homes and displace the occupants for the purposes of self-aggrandizement.
The issues with my large Mercedes truck continues, with malice.
The following have been diagnosed.
Timing chain
Busted gasket on centrifuge
Valve misfiring — spark plugs
Leaking coolant, oil
thumbnail CRACK on fucking windshield (NEW!)
brakes and rotors (NEW!)
Tires
Grande total to fix all of this shit is around $10k. No fucking problem.
My other car, after examination, has a FUCKING cracked windshield too. No idea how these things happen, but they do.
For the balance of this beautifully wonderful day, I shall remain caged inside of the manor, patiently awaiting another car filled with clowns to spill into my house and discuss its maladies. I’ve been informed that we mustn’t cavort outside today, in spite of the perfect weather, because we would, in fact, come back into the residence ‘smelling like horses.’ It’s important, I am told, to remain neutral smelling at all times — because the people inside of the clown cars prefer it that way.
To entertain myself, I might sit in front of the television and droll on for the next few hours, in true American spirit. I cannot, I am told, cook anything either, as it leaves a distinct non-neutral odor in the house, which clowns dislike. Ergo, I must nibble on grains and granola, maybe some nuts, in between my designated tasks.
As you bake your skin in the sun atop of flaming hot sand, Le Fly will be Ajaxing the floors and washing the walls — eating jelly sandwiches and drinking neutral flavored beverages in a neutral colored house, in a neutral fucking hell.
Good day.
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