If I could read this outloud to you it would sound like the teacher talking in Charlie Brown cartoons

I've been feeling lethargic about posting lately. Luckily, Dominic's taken up some of the slack. We've definitely come to that time of the year wherein I do nothing, really, but lie around on the couch and complain about how I don't want to do anything except maybe watch Desperate Housewives and torture the cat and maybe eat an ice cream sandwich or a half a pan of brownies and dwell on how if I could erase one piece of literature from the whole of the western canon, it would be Ethan Frome.

Oh, Edith Wharton. I'm sure you didn't purposefully create evil incarnate. Damn you, Ethan Frome!

Other than that it's more of the same: a pile of dirty dishes, dirty laundry. I fear for our lives, sometimes, when we sleep. One night the noxious gases from the dirty dishes and the stealthy, creeping heft of all the dirty laundry might smother us in our sleep. At least, t'would be a peaceful death, methinks.

But on the brighter side, the strawberry plant we installed in a planter on the balcony has a few berries ripening. Dominic and I figure that maybe tomorrow we'll be able to enjoy them, both of them.