We got quite a bit done around the house this weekend. The house is in good shape, and I managed to get all the laundry that has been stacked in baskets sorted and put away. I was busy folding laundry while Karla repaired one of our toilets, replacing all it's insides.
Now some people might look askance at a couple that has a husband who sorts laundry while the wife does the plumbing repairs. I suppose there are several possible explanations for that phenomenon...
1. Karla is simply the more mechanically inclined of the two of us.
2. We are an enlightened, 21st century couple unhindered by conventional gender roles.
3. I am simply so chock full of masculine awesomeness that the mere proximity to me and my aura of male prowess inspires even the women around me into feats of home repair.
I'm leaning towards option three, but I hesitate to rule out the first two too soon.
The downside of the house looking so good is that no writing really got done. At least not on anything that will ever see the light of day. That's okay, I'm getting garbage out at the moment. At least I'm writing. I also need to figure out a cover for The Ornament, so that would be a legitimate project to undertake if I'm not ready to get back on Argiope yet. I would like to get that story published before Thanksgiving.
Gotta produce. It's all about production.
And how about them Cowboys! I have never seen a professional football team simply give up on a game like that before. I will always be a Cowboys fan, but they are arguably the worst team in the NFL. All the talent in the world is worthless when that talent is giving up on plays before their over. And they better be looking to grab another QB out there because Kitna is going to killed with this level of protection. If I was the coach I would have put my offensive line on a bus and let them take the long way home. That was pitiful.
Oh well, my spleen = vented. Happy Monday!
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