Now, before you look for the email button to fire off a froth filled missive, I'm not talking about skin color. If you've looked at the images at all, you'll notice I'm as pale as the next white girl, right now I'm blindingly so.
No, I'm talking about my clothes here.
In my vast stable of tee shirts, seemingly a billion of them, I have maybe four that are white. And they all have mysterious stains on them, even that white fairy shirt I wear to bed, which comes nowhere near the items that have appeared on it--clay, motor oil, and other stain causing items.
Which leads me to wonder: Are aliens wearing my clothes? Or am I sleepwalking?
Of course, my black tee shirts don't fare much better. For some reason, they all, sooner or later, get grease and cooking oil stains, which stay dark even as the rest of the shirt fades out. Which makes me believe I not only sleepwalk, but sleepcook as well. Strangely enough, my tee shirts grab stains quicker than my fast food uniform, where I *am* around cooking oil all day. This weirds me out a little. But I digress.
At any rate, I thought you'd want to see how the library™ was turning out. Our neighbor finished the bookcase for under the window, and Dent brought home a larger one to match the big one we already had. Here are the results.
|We need more books.|
Finally, I'm saddened to report a death here on IAIA. The death of common sense. Folks apparently couldn't get past the "we don't want gays getting married" to the real problem--the government telling one who one can get married to. Amendment one passed.... yet another reason to leave the south. I must apologize to the folks with "alternate lifestyles" who're reading this-- *I* certainly didn't vote for it.
Perhaps we should send the clothes-wearing sleepwalking aliens to harass our government officials.