This is Halloween


Pre-haunty Warning: I’m going to try posting less frequently (twice a week instead of the usual three, but we’ll still keep the Saturday bonus feature) for a while, in order to avoid what happened this time last year.  Clearly, I am unable to manage all of my time commitments in an adult fashion: when I get overwhelmed, I either A) keep doing everything, super-hard, nonstop, until I have an actual breakdown; or B) just stop doing everything and wait for the world to go away and leave me alone.

 

This year, I’m going to try to avoid option B, where I stop writing and then keep on not writing out of shame for the fact that I’ve been not writing, until it’s Christmas and you’ve forgotten who the hell I am.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

“That New Italian Place” (Story Time!)

 

First off, I need to make sure y’all understand that I am not an Italian food snob.  I mean, I’ve had amazing authentic Italian, at little places I can’t name because there’s exactly one location and I remember it when I’m in the neighborhood (you know how it goes, right?  Please tell me I’m not the only one who navigates/feeds herself like this) so I do know what good is.  It’s fucking amazing and leaves you food drunk and unable to properly contemplate your next meal, even many hours later, because nothing will ever be quite that tasty.

 

But I’m also a sucker for Olive Garden. 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

Good Morning, House Demon

 

Remember that thing I told you, about how he drives like his father?  Well, like almost nothing I write here, I conveyed that information because it was important.* 

 

Husband, along with his many adorable quirks, has a crazy-making, fascist obsession with the lights.  The very idea that, somewhere in the house, a light is on with nobody around to see it makes him twitch.  This is especially baffling for me because, as he himself admits, any given light bulb draws a ridiculously tiny amount of power.  Seriously, my choice to leave the light on over the basement steps for a few hours costs us maybe 1.5 cents every night. 

 

He’s done the math.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

The Driving Issue

 

By now you’re accustomed to the theme of our mixed marriage.  To recap, he hates musicals and horror and awesome things like that, but can drone on about science fiction and refuse to go fishing with me.  I suck at first person shooters and he cannot stealth in any game, ever.  (Seriously, that practically qualifies as a disability.) 

 

So I think it’s time to circle back to The List, don’t you?

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

Our Flag

 

When we bought this house, there were many things we knew would need to go: the variety of hideous wallpaper (a different color and pattern in every room!), the disgusting carpet (seriously, who carpets a bathroom?), and the (I swear to you I am not making this up) towel racks in every single room except the bathrooms all vied for my immediate attention.  But, as it turns out, the house itself didn’t get all that much cheaper just because it was infested with gross carpet and wallpaper and old orange pool tables and furniture so ugly we couldn’t give it away and all of these things cost money to get rid of.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

The Blanket Thief Conspiracy

 

puppy wrapped up like blanket burrito

First off, let’s all agree that I am exactly this cute.

 

I‘m going to tell you a story that really isn’t a story; this is a long-standing, much beloved old argument, which is brought out on a regular basis so that we might run our fingers over the tatters and frayed edges, making repairs and adding to the length as we go. This, in other words, is a running bit: a point of some contention between Husband and myself that will likely never be resolved.

Don’t stop now – keep reading!