Well, it's been an awesome four days. If by awesome you understand that my alter-ego, Gladys, staged a hostile-takeover. Gladys has apparently been smoking for sixty years or so, and has the cough to prove it. She doesn't sleep well either. She flops around the house in sweats, and doesn't do the laundry. I'm hoping she leaves soon, and life can get back to normal. Or what passes for it, in this house.
On the upside, Gunnar thoughtfully loaded about a hundred Man vs. Wild episodes onto our Netflix instant queue. Gladys likes Bear Grylls, though she has a hard time watching him eat raw insects and reptiles when she's not feeling her best.
I was really hoping spring was coming (hence the background change), but woke up to fresh snow in all the hills around the lake. Down here, of course, it's just raining. All weekend. Buckets and buckets of rain.
Which means we chose well, for our LOTR marathon. I mean, if you're going to spend an entire day, watching mythical creatures battle it out, you might as well do it during the monsoon, right? That was fun. And thank you, Grandpa and Grandma Grasshopper for hosting us. We may have a nice TV, but with our lumpy, fifteen-year-old futon, my lumpy forty-five-year-old heinie wouldn't have made it past Rivendell.
And that's the rest of the story.