Ten points if you can identify where the headline came from -- in part because I can't remember. I may have misquoted it (a Google search doesn't turn anything up), in which case, ten more points if you can give me the correct line.
I spent the morning trying to recreate the cover of "Damaged," the above being the more-or-less current state of my bathroom. The vacant spot behind the old mirror didn't contain a severed head or bushels of child porn, kind of a surprise, since everything else has convinced me that the previous owner of this place was insane. I envisioned a quick thirty minute job to replace the mirror -- instead it's been about four hours (with a break for a beer), there's still big chunks of glass on the wall, the wall itself is damaged in several areas, and the new mirror is still in its packaging.
As a bonus, the bathroom floor is covered with shards of broken glass. Memo to all future would-be Tim Allens: when they suggest "put down a dropcloth," they are not fucking around. I've got the glass out of the sink, the shower, and the toilet bowl, and I've cleared enough of a path that I could walk barefoot from the door to the shower tomorrow, if I were incredibly stupid (which, given the current state of this project, isn't out of the question). I'm weighing the possibility of crashing at a friend's house; he's out of town and won't care, until he gets back and reads this, and finds out who left dirty dishes all over the place.