Stockholm

A town so nice, they named a syndrome after it.

I wonder if it applies to marriage, as well.

I was getting some IM traffic today from one of the lurkers, we'll call him CJ, and he was mentioning how he was anxiously awaiting the "after" pictures of the compooter room. I 'xplained to him that "after" pictures generally need to come after something. Which got me to thinking how The Mrs. had been upstairs for the last hour "cleaning the compooter room", and how I had better check on her to make sure nothing was going horribly, horribly wrong.

So I trapsed upstairs and tried to see how the room was going, but there was a giant pile of boxes in the doorway, and I decided it was best not to enter. However, The Mrs. declared that those boxes were, in fact, empty. They were awaiting breakdown and storage. Then she cajolled me into the room to look at the "progress". Well, my goodness but the place was a wreck. Nothing like yesterday, but still a big mess. Thus, no pictures. It definitely showed serious progress, though, and we got to jabbering.

That should have been a red flag right there, jabbering with The Mrs. in the middle of the day, but I think I'm a little off because of the time change. And maybe there's a carbon monoxide leak in the house or something.

At any rate, she's going on about how much space these new bookshelves have, and I'm looking at them and thinking, "Well, those are pretty big bookshelves. Much bigger than that puny one we have over on the other wall." And that's when I broke.

Too bad we didn't get the third one. We could have replaced that little bookshelf and had three matching ones instead of two matching and one diff'r'nt.

Needless to say, about 30 minutes later I had the third one loaded up in the back of the truck, despite the driving rain. It's now sitting in the garage where the van is supposed to be.

I'm a regular Patty Hearst. Only without the trust fund.

Good thing I make so much money off this blog.