I wonder how they (“they” being these very kind folks at Blogger that allow me to post nonsense for free) decide the “it” blogs. The ones that make the right-hand column. Do you reeeaaaaalllly think they sit there and read this stuff? Discuss.

We lost our tv remote at our house. To many people, that’s not news. But this is something so evil, so diabolical and pernicious, in my household that I have to wonder if something is occurring on a much grander scale. See, we’re really neat at my house. Not neat like “neato” (for lack of a better word). We’re organized. The place may have an inch of dust on the furniture, and the stuff in the refrigerator may very well wave at you when you open the door, but everything is in its place. There are no dirty clothes on the floor or overdue movies or library books lying around, and my car doesn’t have a week’s worth of the kids’ stuff in it. So there’s something wrong when something goes missing around the house. It’s just the way we are. We have turned the place upside down. Looked under sofa cushions. In all the bedrooms. The bathrooms. Why? Hellifino. It’s gotta be somewhere. Because if we can’t find it, it can only mean one thing. I. Threw. It. Away.

See, I’m losing my mind. I do some crazy stuff. Like putting the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the fridge. I’ve thrown really, really important stuff in the garbage only to have to dig through coffee grounds and used kleenex to retrieve it later. The problem is, my family catches me everytime I do something like this. And they love it. Me. The organized, got-it-all together one. I will deny it to my death, and then wait until everyone is asleep to rifle through the garbage can like some oversized racoon. So the remote is somewhere. The pantry. Someone’s bookbag. Or, the garbage.

Watched another Halloween show last night — didn’t have much choice since that’s what channel the tv will remain stuck on until we find that damned remote. I’m not going to surf 95 channels standing there holding a button down, guys. It’s not gonna happen. It’s bad enough that we couldn’t mute the commercials for products that may, in extreme cases, cause four-hour erections. Geez! It was on regular cable in primetime. My resident Beavis got a kick out of that.

Halloween 4 was on, followed by Halloween 5. That guy creeps me out. Still. The movies didn’t hold a candle to the original, but they were entertaining. No creepy abandoned hospitals last night, which would have been much scarier. If those aren’t on tonight, we’re popping in Blair Witch or something else — at least they don’t have commercials.

And after everyone’s asleep, I’m taking apart the garbage disposal.

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