Get Lost!

So why am I sitting here typing right in the middle of the much-anticipated 2-hour Lost season premiere? Because stupid ABC moved stupid Lost to stupid Thursday nights. And James has class until 9:30 on Thursdays. And that is besides the fact that nearly every other tv show I indulge myself with is also on Thursday night - Survivor, The Office, Grey's Anatomy, and ER. Is there no other night for television to broadcast? Goodness.

To console myself for having to wait until 10:00 to view the show that most of you (by the time you read this) have already watched, I underwent a little shop therapy. I threw Zoe in the car and headed to Target. Here is where my rant gets personal. Remember when we had a discussion about ice scrapers? Here is another tip:

Never buy yourself a wicked awesome ice scraper and tell your husband about it. Inevitably he will use it and "accidentally" leave it in his car before you even get a chance to use it. And, inevitably, you will traipse out to the car after properly bundling you and your child with a glimmer of hope in your eye because it's the first time you've really gone anywhere in 2 weeks and you just slaved over dinner, ate it alone, and just need to get away. And since you finally remembered to buy an ice scraper (and found a wicked awesome one) you don't even worry about the 3 inches of snow covering the inch of ice on your windshield. And then, after strapping said bundled child into a cold car in the diminishing daylight, you discover that your wicked awesome ice scraper has vanished into wicked awesome thin air. Sorry I hung up on you on the phone James, but maybe now you understand why I was a little worked up. I did make it to Target after removing the snow and ice with my hands and sleeves. I bought myself three shirts.

And now I am sitting here, returning e-mails, blogging, and in general finding ways to pass the time without actually resorting to accomplishing things (like cleaning my house, planning the next family menu, creating a shopping list). I find myself completely occupied and content. On a lighter note, I'm glad that a few of you are enjoying Grandaddy. When I called them "weird" I was really meaning "unique." But in the world of pop music, their brand of unique is generally regarded as weird. I like weird. No, wait, I am weird.