Where I Am: In my living room, on my couch

What I’m Doing: Suffering a puppy headbutt

The fact that I get my hair cut specifically to be spiked up in the front does not lend itself well to those days when I fail to spike it. Bowser rightfully attacks me for daring to pose for a photo with him while sporting an ill-defined spitcurl.

Saturday counted as Lisa’s day. Since our goals for the weekend are incredibly disparate (mine: relax and enjoy myself, hers: work interminably toward ill-defined goals that can never be achieved) we divide the days up, one each. On each person’s day the other person is supposed to do whatever the other person wants. This never works. On Lisa’s days, I cannot muster the unbridled enthusiasm for painting the unseen underside of cabinets that she demands (although, to be fair, I do paint the underside of the cabinets under protest). On my days, Lisa goes out of her way to do everything she can to make me miserable. If I want to watch a movie, there will be complaints about the movie, followed by a request that she start every noisy appliance in the house. If she protests the movie so much that she refuses to watch it (which is strictly against the rules of the day division policy) she will march around the house noisily, turning on lights and walking in front of the screen barking that her reasons for doing so are so vital that the world’s fate hangs in the balance. This goes doubly so if I decide to play a videogame on my day, since she will want to discuss all manners of things concerning the earth and the heavens. This is usually complimented by the exclamation "We never get to do what *I* want on *my* day!" a statement so ironic that irony is currently under consideration for a redefinition by the International Forum on Irony meeting in Oslo.

This particular Lisa’s Day the task at hand was reorganizationo of the kitchen. The thing is virtually complete with the exception of the purchasing and installation of new appliances and the installation of our new faucet. There’s a couple of projects, such as a new tile backsplash, that will be done in the future, but for some reason have not been ascribed the apocalyptic immediacy of the other kitchen projects. The apocalyptic immediacy was reserved for the task at hand. Suggesting that the project may take two days was enough to incite domestic violence. That the project actually did take two days was no grounds for an apology or at least an admission of wrongdoing.

Lisa insists that the above makes her look unjustifiably crazy. I explained that she is unjustifiably crazy, but I love her despite that.

She does not accept that answer.