"It's more like an Egyptian mummy than anything ever seen on this continent"

Fascinating! Eric is watching the Sci-Fi channel, home to some of the best acting and cinematic achievement on television. Good lord, I can feel my brain cells dying by the second. The show is called The Fallen Ones and the description: "An archaeologist finds the remains of a giant warrior."

Do you ever worry about the future of our country?

I guess we're going to the Depot in a while, after Eric finishes his interminably long weekend morning routine, which includes several cups of coffee, bathroom, grooming, bathroom, and picking out which of the 19 pairs of cargo shorts he owns that he will wear. Meanwhile, I've been up since 7:30 because Pixie will not let me sleep past 7:30, have done the dishes, Swiffered, walked the pups, texted Ashie several times after learning about her raucous Friday night, and talked with my sister about how this house is sucking all the fun out of my life, among other things.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy here. REALLY happy, because, after all, if I wasn't here I'd probably still be in Boston. And Boston made me REALLY unhappy (in general--there were some things that were pretty darn super about it). But perhaps it's a signature of those of us who choose to enter into a relationship with a house, where we give up a lot of the stuff that makes us fun to be around.

For instance, I cannot have a conversation about ANYTHING without it turning to the house. A co-worker comments on the color shirt I'm wearing--I immediately say something like, "Oh, thanks! We're thinking of a shade of this color for the foyer." A friend says, "You were sick last week. Feeling better?" I say, "Much better, thanks, but I think it's the drywall dust that's making my allergies act up, and we've got SO MUCH more drywalling to do. Do you know of a good mask?" Seriously, I used to be interesting. And I used to be smart--not to toot my own horn, but I looked back at some work I did in 2004-05 in grad school, and jeez louise, it was fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that me in 2008 did not understand what me in 2005 was talking about.

So, anyway, we're off to the Depot. Maybe we'll buy a nail gun so we can put up the million pieces of trim that have been sitting in our dining room since May. Maybe we'll get the mushroom colored paint for the master bathroom that I've been dreaming of but can't match my dreams to reality. Maybe, but probably not, we'll clean up the debris and building materials on our front porch (in our defense, we utilize the house across the street as a litmus test--when she removes the dresser, 14 chairs, ceramic rabbits, and bowling pins from her front porch, we'll know it's time to bite the bullet and clean ours) .

We used to be normal. Really.

EDIT: Apparently, The Fallen Ones were "the offsprings (yes, offSPRINGS) of fallen aliens." Well, that explains everything.