Alone in the Big Chair

I have the Michigan-Notre Dame Frozen Four game on, muted. I'm back to wading through the SXSW 2008 Showcasing Artists playlist. This is drowning out the crazy, ridiculous wind outside.

It gets old talking and hearing about the weather. It gets equally as old experiencing the weather. And since we're constantly exposed to it, talk about it we will. Winter refuses to go away. We got one helluva sleet today, might get a few more inches of snow tomorrow, and then it'll be 50 every day next week. Can't we just skip to that part?

This is cuddling weather. I'm in the big chair by myself for the evening. Missy's out and about in the weather. Sucks for her to be out in the weather. Sucks that there's no sitting in the big chair together. Wah.

I'd almost like to thank the United States for building a cell phone network that's incompatible with the rest of the world's because it forced me to cut the cord while we were on vacation. I've been trying to limit my internet time since my return. Between that and my actually being busy at work, there's not a whole lot of Metblogging going on.

The forced hiatus seems to have cured my Twitter obsession. It's dulled to a healthy enjoyment, but the driving need to stay caught up on Twitter seems to have subsided. That's a relief. What a brainless drone that can be. I'm not all anti-Twitter now, but it just sucks up all the spare brain cycles. Okay, Twitterific is open, but I set it to only refresh every 15 minutes. Baby steps.

Reading of the Day comes from Queercents: In Search of Gay Money: 5 Steps to Partnered Pocketbooks.

My girl's home now and she's sleepy, which means I'm not staying up for overtime. Hopefully Michigan will pull it out. I can't believe their last championship was 10 years ago when I was still in school. I could stay up if I wanted to, but it's just not the same going to bed later. There's habits and rituals and stuff. I like my bedtime habits and rituals.