The floor cracked from side to side

I want blood.

I am so fucking mad.

And yes, someone is going to pay with their blood.

What the fucking hell does it mean? The ominous cracking noises we heard at night, and in the day when it was quiet, have finally shown their true colour. The floor runneth in cracks. And not just one room. ALL of them! Them fucking workmanship.

I am so stressed and distressed. Furniture will be coming in on Sat. Things are going to get real messy when the stuffs come in. How are they going to repair all their shoddy workmanship like this? What are they going to do? Hack out all the floor and redo? I tell you, it's really awful. *sob*

I am so fucking mad.

And yes, I want blood.

Tomorrow.

*****
I've finished reading Small Gods. Quite a nice read. Love turtles and tortoises actually. Is there actually a difference between a turtle and a tortoise? I always thought turtles have flippers but tortoises have toes, turtles fly in the ocean but tortoises crawl in the desert, but someone said it's the size. Hmm. And how about terrapins? But I digress. Book was pretty well written. Much philosophical. Too cheem for me to think too deep since I am still sick. The style of writing kinda reminds me of someone's blogging. Not much originality in there, if you ask me. Ha. I supposed, imitation is the best form of flattery. Or perhaps one's favourite author does rub off on oneself after a while. heh heh.

In terms of humour, there were pretty good stuffs as well, much more in Small Gods than in Night Watch. However, I still think David Eddings and his gods are funnier. Well, at least the earlier DE's books. Never did quite read and liked the later ones.

And so I grow old and become more crotchety. A small crotchety old lady knitting by the moonlight. Cross her path wrongly and woe befall the victim, with a long wooden needle poked into your eyes for emphasis.

And speaking about the moon, the moon was rather round last night. And it shone through the windows, bright and silvery in the middle of the night. There was a magical feel to it, all the tress and buildings and construction cranes bathing in the mysterious silver light. I tucked my dear hubby in and cuddled back to sleep. Flatze Cato always ended up sleeping on the floor. Don't look at me. I wasn't the one who kicked him there!

*****
It is absolutely unacceptable. Mad I am, and furious I will be. There is now a bigger hole. Rotten wood they used. Damn them all to hell. And we all know that the G is corrupt, don't we?

Bah.