In additional to turning my life right around once January First hits me, I'm also planning a new look for the blog. I'm getting a little sick of looking at the word 'RE', as if I'm been re-ing anything. So instead, I'll take the opportunity to tell stories of how I manage to screw my life up every day, being the klutzy, wine-addicted, hoarder that I am.
Last night was a fight for the television remote. My brother is home for a while, which means that I can't watch my British comedies and soap operas. My life after work, pre-Peter, consisted of Vision TV and Sims. That's it. Maybe throw in a meal or laundry or a bottle of wine if I'm lucky (and this holiday season, I've been extremely lucky, friends). I watch my Murder She Wrote, then Absolutely Fabulous, then Keeping Up Appearances - take a look at the 'movie of the week' page if you're curious - then my favourite soap opera EastEnders, which I admittedly haven't watched religiously ever since my hottie star left the show.
Now, I come home and have to validate my existence by claiming the other half of the couch (I don't like our leather recliners), and the other half of the wall socket. He tries though, he tries:
"Yes! Look, it's Bourne Identity!"
"Fuck, man. Is it almost over?"
"No! It just started!" Insert annoying smiley face.
"But...but.."
"OK, ok. Let's just watch it for half an hour. Just half an hour."
"Fine. Because -" (because I want to watch Murder She Wrote)
"Because Jeopardy is on then! And we can play it together!"
Face. Palm.
Hey, he made me wine. I can't complain too much.
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