In which Our Glowing Alchemigal saves one life for money, and then saves everyone’s life for free, although she’s sure to make a tidy profit by harvesting gooey bits from the raging mob of giant flaming bears that she pretty much kills without any help and at no risk to herself. Clearly this is the same sort of “alchemy” that Edward Elric practiced…
The front half of the house gets covered back up Wednesday. By the way, I don’t think I mentioned it earlier, but this is the stuff we’re using. Today was spent smoothing, leveling, and de-squeaking, so the flooring guy is going to, um, “hit the ground running” in the morning. I won’t be hanging around and getting in the way; I’ve been in a hotel since Sunday, and I just show up in the morning and evening.
“Do you have a floor preference?”
“Yeah, I would like a floor.”
“No, what level?”
“How about… ‘Beginner’?”
(and if you find that quote naggingly familiar, as I did, it’s from an early Paula Poundstone concert)
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