The Blame Game

 The weekend has arrived and it's supposed to be glorious... and, as usual, I'm working.  And not only is it The Weekend... it's Labor Day weekend.  This means I'll be getting some holiday pay, and there's nothing wrong with that, especially since I'm moving forward with this kitchen renovation.

Lindsey was here yesterday.  She's going to do the construction, drywall, tearing out the sink cabinet and install the new one and the sink, and her boyfriend's going to be doing the plumbing.  I started ripping out the old grip-strip vinyl flooring.  Back when I bought it, twelve or so years ago, my decision was based mostly on looks rather than quality.  Today I know much better.  While we do sell the stuff, we don't install it because it's not waterproof, one of the few vinyl floors that isn't; I learned the hard way.  The wear layer is only 4 mils, meaning it's terrible for pets, my dogs proved that by scratching it all up.  The new stuff is going to be much better.

I baked a spanakopita for dinner last evening, a full pan, so I'll be eating Greek spinach pie for the next couple of days.

One of the most amusing things about the Atlanta indictments is how many of the indictees are wanting to sever themselves from the rest of the bunch.  I saw where Navarro wants to make sure his trial is severed from Powell's, you know?  Sydney?  The woman who's trying to pull a Trumpism by saying she had nothing to do with the fake electors because she had hardly anything to do with the rest of the gang?  And I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't want his trial to go first, since I'm sure he, like the rest of them, knows that blame is going to be flying like shit pies once the trials begin.  There will be a blame game extraordinaire.