My Gym Rat

 

This week contains my last few “normal” days before I begin terrorizing the citizens of St. Louis every single night,[1] which means I’m spending whatever little bits of time I can with Husband—cuddling, sitting with him while he finally watches Mindhunter,[2] and taking care of some projects we foolishly put off until the least convenient season.

 

Yes, I really want to tell you about one of them, but I can’t.  It’s too big (and not at a shareable stage yet).  We’ll get there, I promise.

 

But my altered schedule makes my nightly call with Offspring easier; most nights I just call him when I’m on my way home to wash the blood out of my hair.[3]

(Ready or Not) Bride in torn, burned, bloody wedding dress, covered in blood spatter, hair matted with blood and grit, giggles.

 

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A Fragrant Palm

 

I don’t remember which trip to Colorado it was, but since at this point all of them have sort of blurred together I suppose it doesn’t matter—and at any rate, the timing isn’t the point.  The point is, I came home, made a spontaneous trip to Home Depot for… something?  (Again, the actual purpose of the errand is irrelevant) and came home with a Majesty Palm tree.

 

Because I have no sense of proportion.

 

I don’t know what came over me, I just saw her there and she had to come home with me.

potted palm tree in front of glass doors

Her name is Madge

 

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Demon Rights

 

Offspring recommended Detroit: Become Human so of course I fired it up… and binged that shit so hard; I finished faster than I think I’ve ever finished any game of any genre.  I laughed, I cried, I was extremely uncomfortable—I became the leader the Android Rights movement needed.

(Detroit: Become Human) 3 android figures

Shown: thankful androids

 

Which makes it all the more awkward to report that I may have to chuck that damned Demon Box in the bin.

 

She’s getting too uppity, you know?

 

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WTB Farm

 

I have plenty of complaints—and the usual Actual Conversation,™ but first I need to update you on a critical issue.

 

One I’m sure—if you’re a regular around here—has been on your mind of late.  Probably keeping you from working (you’re welcome) or even getting a good night’s sleep (I’m sorry).

 

Because I know you’ve been deeply concerned for a certain member of my family.

 

John Stewart (hosting The Daily Show) eating popcorn while he stares, wide-eyed, at something

 

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Actual Conversations With Alexa

 

Because I am a delightful mass of contradictions, no one can predict which technologies I will embrace the instant they are available and which ones I will shun until a loved one drags me, kicking and screaming, into the century of the fruitbat.*

 

Example: though I complain about delays of microseconds** everywhere else in my life, I will beta test any game that appeals even a little bit.  I also howled in frustration when my phone wasn’t one of the first hundred or so delivered.  But I only agreed to download the goddamned parking meter app because A) the meter charged my card double the day before and B) I forgot my wallet and it was my turn to pay for parking again.  No choice there, and I was getting shame for not having already done it.

 

Also, I only just got an Echo for Christmas.

 

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