Anyone who truly knows me is likely sitting in their desk chair in shock upon reading this. It is to them that I say this next sentence: I KNOW, right?
It was as awkward as an out of body experience may be. Usually three to six hours after ten, I feel ready for bed. For the first time in, well, years maybe- I was ready to go to bed and Chw wasn’t.
Scary times around Chez’ Wagner, I tell you…
We both heard our neglected DVR calling our names though. It’s been faithfully recording our wishes, and we have pretty much ignored it since the night of the superbowl. Chw was determined to watch Heroes (I hate, loathe and detest that show) so I just curled up on the couch, layed my head on his lap and slept. When I awoke, it was well after midnight and Mr. Hates-To-Stay-Up-Late was immersed in something lame on the History channel. His defense for not going to bed once Heroes was over? “I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, I don’t even remember the last time I just watched t.v.”
THE GOOD NEWS:
I feel completely rested, the sun is shining (though is snowed a descent amount), and I feel like I could tackle anything!
THE BAD NEWS:
Gen is sick. Tummy sick. Poor thing… Her bathroom is being fitted with HAZZARD signs as I type. Scientists may make their way to our home later, by way of E.T. like vinal tunnels and testing stations. These are serious times, ya’ll. If you feel pity and ache to bring flowers, cookies or liqour, I ask that you leave them by the door and back away slowly. Really. It’s for your own good…