The nice thing about entwining on the couch and watching twelve (12) episodes of something in a row is that if it's generally good, then you don't notice the weak eps as much. Some were a little too cheesy and not enough absurd, but you almost don't even notice if you're not paying attention. And I'm a consumer, not a critic, so I shouldn't be TRYING to pick up on that stuff. So I won't.
Last year I complained bitterly about the cold. Bitterly. Most specifically about the cold in my house. Chris can deal with it being a lot colder than I can, and hoo boy did I have problems with that last year. This year it's not so bad. Maybe I'm just in a better mood? I don't know why I would be. But I come home and it's cold in the house, and who cares? I just make a fire. We haven't turned on our heat yet, and I don't know when we will. We're all wood-powered, baby. It's nice.
What I need, though, is a TV in the den. So that I never have to leave that room.
Last night Chris confided that he had never slept overnight in our bed by himself. (Er, the implication was that he never had anyone else accompany him, either.) It's only happened a handful of times in the past year, but I guess he's always fallen asleep on the couch (as he does almost every night anyway), and never gets up and moves back to our bedroom. He says it's too cold and lonely in there without me. I think he thought I would think that was cute/sweet, and it sort of is, but I am a big fan of being comfortable, so I always sleep in the bed when I'm alone. It warms up eventually. And has sheets.