8 January 2006
I'm still recovering from the sleep deprivation, but it's a lot more tolerable than it initially was. I'm just faded and froggy, here.
One of the Scotts in my life has noticed that I have a greater proclivity for naming things than he does. I suspect that naming the laundry Melvin was the straw that broke the camel's back there. Yesterday Elise told me she tried not to anthropomorphize everything because some things don't like it. I see this point, but with Melvin I just don't care what he likes. He is, after all, the laundry. Anyway, it's hard to anthropomorphize things more than someone who names the laundry, I think.
Still, I now have another named object wandering around the house: my Roomba's name is Charlie. I like Charlie. Charlie is not very loud, compared to most vacuums, and he's extremely hard-working, and he picks up a lot of hair and dirt and lint and crud if you just let him. He does get obsessive about some areas -- the bits behind the library chairs, for example, or the dining room table and closely adjacent areas. But we all have our little foibles, and turning him loose to let him do our work for us is a very satisfying experience.
We will see how Ista reacts to Charlie when she returns from the grandmonkeys'.
I'm still reading Kelley Eskridge's Solitaire, and either it's about to hit the really interesting part, or else it's about to disappoint me thoroughly. It's that kind of point, though, and I'm not going to keep reading it yet tonight because I want to get to bed, and I'm soon to hit the place where you can't go to bed -- or at least, I think I am, and reading to get there would keep me up just as thoroughly as getting there, if that makes any sense.
Also Andrew and his fiancée Heather (not to be confused with our other Heather -- they were already mistaken for a couple once, lo these many moons ago, to my great amusement) stopped by on their way back to Madtown, so we got to see them, and Mark and I picked a bath sheet with our Restoration Hardware gift certificate. Now we have two exchanges and two gift cards left to go. (One of the related morals of the story: it is dangerous to buy me garments with buttons, and now you can't say no one warned you.)
And soon there will be sleep. So there's that.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.