And I Am Telling You

Now that it's become crystal clear that Gilbert is never leaving...

He actually sang, "And I Am Telling You" to me yesterday.

No he didn't.

But since all that was accomplished yesterday was finishing the closet trim and painting the ceiling in the living room, well, I think he's just having a splendid time and/or the church is trying to gaslight me out of my place.

Okay, why am I writing this? There must be a reason I'm writing this.

Oh yeah. Got it. Finally. Phew. I finally figured out why this whole renovation thingy is making me so sad and cranky and frightened. The last time I was having my home worked on was when I was living in the bachelorette pad near the Cuban Mission. And was playing in the Miss Managed Mischke Show. Things were not going well at work and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Things were not going well at home and critters wanted to crawl out of the walls....literally.

There were large animals in my walls and large holes in my walls.

Nightmare. AnthropomorTiZm.

One would think 15 years later there was nothing left to dredge up regarding that time.

Think again.

Or don't. Maybe this will finally exercise and exorcise those demons. Make the demons dance 'til they drop.

Lah de dah.

Or they could strike up a rousing rendition of "And I Am Telling You." If they do, I hope they do the skinny, giant-haired Jennifer Holliday version where she does a full-on backbend on the final note. 'Cause then I'll laugh.