Yet Another Post About Nothing

You gotta love a post about nothing.

I've decided that more bloggers need to free-write.  I'm kind of over the whole 'having to plan an entire post with readers in mind' thing.  Maybe that's not new, though. Maybe no one else worries about that shit anymore.  Wouldn't surprise me, because I'm usually behind on these things. And, well...everything, I guess.

It's 1:30am and I am wide the hell awake for some reason.  You know how sometimes you try to sleep and your bed feels like the absolute least comfortable place you could be at that moment? THAT THING.  I'm watching Eddie Izzard's "Circle" special on the Netflixes which is hilarious and I'm snuggled in Rob's Army poncho liner because the air conditioner makes my house too cold. Warmest thing in the world, that poncho liner, by the way.

I've had a busy couple of weekends which has been awesome-pants (totally going to try to get that phrase started) because Rob comes home tomorrow (or technically today I guess) and staying busy is what needs to happen (other parenthetical statement). I've been rained on and went swimming in Abiquiu Lake, got a new tattoo and drank a prickly pear margarita at a convention in Albuquerque, bought some local art in downtown Santa Fe, and checked out the Science Museum up in Los Alamos, where the Manhattan Project was based.

Funny thing about the Science Museum--it's run by the government since the Los Alamos lab is actually a national lab. We watched a video about the Manhattan Project that really awkwardly skipped past the whole, you know, bombs-dropping-and-killing-people thing and focused more on the awesome martini soirees the scientists held while their countrymen were fighting and dying in World War II. I mean why deal with the massive world-changing implications of your actions when you can just wear awesome '40s clothes and hairstyles and drink martinis, am I right?

Forgive me for bringing up X-Files for the second time in my Posts About Nothing, but what on earth is Scully's deal?! Bitch has seen some crazy shit with her own eyes, and yet each episode when Mulder suggests that maybe, just maybe, some paranormal activity is responsible, and she acts all condescending and lame? I hate that "Mul-DER!" tone she has.  HE'S ALWAYS RIGHT, why do you doubt him every single goddamn time?! Rob thinks that it's probably more pronounced to me because I'm watching them all in a row, but I think a girl has a right to expect some measure of continuity.

Can you tell I'm home alone a lot?

Oh hey, before I forget, my darling husband turns 27 today! He's officially in his late 20s, though he'd argue with me on that point if he wasn't all the way in Colorado. He should arrive home later which is great because he'll be just in time for birthday week. 

Look, a rainbow!