I've got freckles on me but, I am nice.

Yesterday I got a lot of stuff done that's been on my to-do list for ages. Months. Months and months and months. Actually, one thing--printing and fixing twelve pictures for a standing cube frame--had been there since Christmas. I know cause that's when my niece gave it to me, and I kept thinking, oh, I'll do that tomorrow. Why do today what you can put off for later, after all?

I logged onto The Mud yesterday, and on one other one (last login there: 2002.) Oi. By the time I left, I was downright depressed. I miss everyone, but I just can't handle seeing everything so dead all the time. M theorized that we're kind of like the people who long for their high school days and wish everything could be just like it was then. We had so much fun, and it was such a huge part of our lives. (I'm saying we and our, but honestly, I think it bothers me more than it bothers M.) Now.. it's just.. it's not. All my friends (except for tarynfogle) are gone, all my muds are gone. (Basically, it seems that if I ran there, it's down.) It's sad. I think what bothers me the most is that I don't feel like I have an internet home anymore.. not like I did before. Although I guess I don't miss the drama. Or--and I'm only entertaining this thought to ward off further homesickness--certain individuals and their crazy. I'll just have to keep thinking that until my melancholy passes.

I think the Harry Potter theorists are cute. Not because I don't think they have valid points, or because I haven't been sitting here reading them and trying to decide what I think about that thing that must not be mentioned. I got so antsy at the end of book six that I think I skimmed over a few things, and I can't really write about my thoughts/questions yet because M is still reading and he has absolutely no willpower; he would totally read what I wrote if I put it behind a cut. But.. what makes me smile so fondly is that, when compared to the WoT theories abounding on the net, it's total child's play. (This isn't a value judgment at all. I don't read WoT theories between re-readings, either.. it wears me out. And the only reason I plucked WoT out of the air to compare it to is because it's the only fantasy series I'm really into, not because I'm holding it to an unattainable pinnacle of excellence or anything. Also, several of you have read it. Nerds.) There just aren't enough characters or objects in all six books to formulate extremely off-the-wall, complex theories. I'm not saying that's bad at all. Harry Potter was an extremely enjoyable read. If it had been terribly complicated, it a) would not have become so wildly successful with so many age groups and b) wouldn't have been nearly as much fun to read. (I enjoyed it much, much more than I expected to.) I have all sorts of questions and thoughts and opinions, but at its core, it's still a series that will need to be understood by children, and all these loose ends theoretically need to be wrapped up in one more book. There's not time for complexities. (Having said that, I have my doubts about that whole one-more-book thing, but okay.)

I also need to let you all know that my husband totally took care of business today. He cleaned the bathroom, did the grocery shopping, the dishes, helped with the laundry, went to the bank, played taxi cab, took out the trash, worked on his mandolin, typed up some of his book notes, talked to his friend and took his wife out to dinner. (I wish he hadn't done that because I got too full and have been queasy all evening as a result. That's another story, though. Probably not one I'm interested in telling, either.)

Could be time for bed. I heard a theory about it, anyway. Better go check on it. Or maybe I'll just go hurl obscenities at the bed. You know, some old jokes just should not be revived. Because.. even if it's funny again after a three-year hiatus, it's not cool to yell "#$*@! ... #$*@! ... #$*@!" at inanimate objects. At least not that often. Or at least not if there are people around. And for the love of milkshakes and chicken nuggets, not at a singularly unremarkable dollar bill in the drive-thru of McDonald's. Your bad luck that I was your Secret Shopper, mate. Bet you also repeated that four-letter word to your manager when you got fired, didn't you? (P.S. Thank you for making it entertaining to complete the paperwork on that one, buddy.) I have got to stop rambling and go to bed.