I don't know about any if you have famous authors living in your house, but we do, it's just the way we roll. The girl wrote a book when she was 14 or so, probably the only thing she wrote that the father didn't die in the first few minutes! She finally decided to get it published, it's called, "Her Hair",and we are all excited about it. She's excited because, well, because she she got her book published. I'm excited because when she's famous, she can buy me stuff! She has others, one will be submitted to a competition, I'll let you know.
I'm getting the wife to sew the right pocket of all my pants shut, it is officially useless to me. If I am able to get something in the right pocket, I sure can't get it out. I was wearing a pair of my fat guy shorts today, had my wallet in my right pocket. My wallet is huge, has my badge, and wad of cash I lug around. I couldn't get my right hand into the pocket. My hand isn't swollen and won't fit, I just couldn't find the opening, or manipulate the wallet out. I need to start carrying a pen in my right hand like Bob Dole, problem is I'd drop the pen. I always liked my right hand, I'm going to miss it.
I have tons of projects that need to be done, don't have the energy to even get started. It's time to get started with painting, refinishing floors, all kinds of fun stuff. I won't be doing any of it. That time has past for me, I will be the guy that sits on the chair and keeps saying it needs another coat, even before the first one is on yet. Who will build my cottage doors, put up my wainscoting, my disco ball? I know this is just the start of this part but I already hate it! Just something else to get depressed over.