Playing with Fire.

Hello world, it's been awhile.  Everything is pretty status quo, so not much was missed.

Jokes. A few things happened. Like I adopted two guinea pigs and I had the best party ever so far.

Anyway, I think it's time to discuss the hazards of fire and judging others.

Others being me.

Others sometimes don't like to do the dishes. Or get out of bed before nine. And they may not be entirely logically sound.

And then there are other others (not me) that like to clean everything all the time. And like to do before nine more than the original others (me again) do in their entire day. It is an other other that caused me to hide my dirty dishes in my relatively unused oven before they visited my apartment at 8:30 am. Which is before nine.

Now let us journey into the future. A frozen pizza is purchased. Red Baron, as it were. The king of frozen pizza.

Some days later AJ announces he is coming home for lunch and pizza sounds good.

So, being the darling and sweet wife that I am, I preheat the oven. And then putter around our apartment doing things that I do. Time and logic have recently abandoned me due to a series of events that may be discussed in the future. So at an unknown time later I smell smoke.

I mosey into the kitchen to discover that thick black smoke is pouring out of my oven. Confused, I open the oven door and am unreasonably surprised to find my dishes. On fire. Not little baby flames, but actual flames.

I contemplate calling 911, but I envision the embarrassment of having to explain my conniving, so much more embarrassing than burning down our entire apartment complex (especially considering that one of our neighbors actually lives in her apartment because she is waiting for her house to be rebuilt because it burned down in a wildfire). So much less embarrassing. Obviously.

So I called AJ instead.

And he laughed at me. Actually laughed.

Luckily for my little panic attack prone heart he had just pulled into our apartment complex parking lot. So he put out the fire. And everything was okay again. Except for the handles on some of my knives. Sadly, they were beyond repair.

The point of all this is to say that one, I am incredibly lazy and two, judging is bad. Stop it. Also, welcome back.


*note* Yes, I noticed the multiple changes from present to past tense and so forth. Yes, I realize how annoying that is. Please see point #1.

This is not a democracy, this is a happy dictatorship.

I got this precious gem from my father, thanks dad.

Anyway, the Brown Couch votes have been tallied. Alas and alack it appears that the general (limited) public believes that Devin will be the first to marry and therefore claim the brown couch. Whatever. Clearly, the public is flawed. Obviously, I will win. With my charm and good looks how could I not?

But there is just one question that was on my mind throughout this Brown Couch poll extravaganza: Who in the world is voting for Devin?

Seriously.

Not that I don't love Devin. I do. He is a cool-cat like unto myself. But, seriously?

So Devin-voters it is time to come clean. Please enlighten me on why you voted for Devin. Doing so will help decrease your shame, though it can never be entirely erased.

In explanation: The Brown Couch

The Brown Couch is magical. It makes sick people well. Sitting on it is a dream. The Brown Couch is a miracle. Everyone wants it.

My mother inherited the Brown Couch when she wed my Father. Or at sometime after. Point being that if she had not married it would not belong to her.

Thus, it has become a competition between my siblings and me. The first of us to marry inherits the Brown Couch.

This is taken very seriously. Okay, so maybe only very to me. And maybe it is only speculation/wishful thinking that my mother will actually relinquish her rights to the Brown Couch upon my marriage. But I do hope.

So vote. (For me, preferably).

The game is afoot.

Devin informed me today (via e-mail) that he plans to claim the Brown Couch upon his return from Mexico. He says that he has spent the last two years honing his social skills and suppressing his wanting. He will suppress no longer. He believes that this will ensure him the Brown Couch.

He is mistaken.

I will triumph over him. I will be named conqueror. I will sit upon the throne that is the Brown Couch.

But so that you may voice your opinion I have created a poll. Please vote.