Perfect for Monday

We just came through a stormy weekend, but (thankfully) only in the metaphorical sense. Usually, whenever my husband leaves on a week-long work trip, we actually have an actual blizzard.

Last Friday: kids going in one direction (music lessons); I was going in another (annual physical), husband preparing to go in a third (Colorado, a weed conference. No, the kind you kill with herbicide). And our water heater breaks down. Doesn't just quit, but is corroded and leaking. Hubby has to come home from work (which he can't afford to do, given he'll be gone the entire following week) to do damage control and call the plumber. Pull up carpet, open basement floor drain, drain heater, shut off all water to the house (heater's cold water intake valve was also corroded and leaking), mop water from furnace room floor, then receive the news that the plumbers may not be able to make it that day. They did, and they replaced the heater (Deo Gratias).

I heard this song on the radio during my 45 mile drive home from the doctor's office, and chuckled at the title (it being somewhat apropos). I'd never heard of these guys before (they're from Glasgow, which explains the kilt). They've been around since the 90s, which suddenly makes me feel as though I've been in a time warp. Given my age, I guess I'd better get used to that.