I don't want to get up - just like when I was 10 years old.
This morning, my head under the covers, Jen tried to get me to get out of
"I'm in the shower, the big lump you see is the cat."
"What do you mean you're the cat?"
"I'm in the shower already and the cat is in the bed. Overnight I learned to
throw my voice. Reoooow."
That little bit of brilliance got me an extra five minutes of slothdom. Not
that she believed me.
Yesterday Jen and I separated offices. We never use the spare bedroom. I
think two people have used it since we moved in, so we put Jen's desk in
there and now I have the purple office.
(For those just tuning in, my apartment was rented before me by a crazy lady
who painted the walls salmon pink, shades of green and had the room I use as
an office painted grape ape purple.)
I had to run network cable through the basement so Jen could access the
cable modem, and while I was out buying cable, I bought a TV card for my
computer. 40 bucks and it is damn worth it. Not only will I be able to
post video of the last round of my slams, it also functions as a ghetto
Tivo. I can pause live TV, record shows in digital, bootleg my own Divx
movies, you name it.
So far I have Invader Zim, NYPD Blue and Law & Order scheduled to mass