And it sure is Monday

I can always tell when Michael was the last one to drive my car (aside from the fact that I usually remember when and where we last went, and who drove anyway), and it has nothing to do with the seat being pushed back (in point of fact I usually scoot the seat back as I get out, just on the off-chance that he'll be the next one driving it, because my theory is that it's easy for me, as the shorter person, to get into the car and then scoot the seat forward than it is for him, as the taller person, to squeeze into the car and then scoot the seat back): the slide-open mirror on the driver's sun-shade is always closed. Michael, apparently, has no use for looking at himself in the mirror while driving.

Quite the weekend. On Saturday Michael trekked off to the War Room for a day of Advanced Squad Leader, a WWII strategy board game that makes Axis and Allies look about as complex as Candy Land. I, meanwhile, sprayed the lawn with weed-killer. This was a simple task as the weed-killer came in concentrate that you poured in a bottle which you then affixed to the end of the garden hose, and spray the lawn through the bottle, much like a sustained stream of Windex, except much more poisonous. The directions were unclear as to how intensely you were supposed to broadcast the stuff, so I blanketed the lawn pretty thickly, and read after I finished the bottle that you were supposed to apply the stuff on a non-windy day, wearing long sleeves, boots, rubber gloves, and goggles. If my hair starts falling out we know what to blame.

Then set off on a windmill-tilting expedition to find more generic white socks for Michael. The specifications were explicit as to size, colour, make, model, length, and structure; these were special socks and could not be purchased in any regular department store. I called several specialty sports stores in the area to see whether they had any in stock, and ended up driving to a mall twenty miles away to procure the desired prize. Michael has worn out probably ten pairs of socks since we've been married, and he was down to about three good pairs. This was, therefore, very satisfying.

At some point we got to talking about Alien, the first two of which we've watched with friends over the last few months. Michael mentioned that the third one picks up right after the second one leaves off, which leads to the inevitable conclusion that there must be an alien somewhere aboard the ship, since they scorched the planet at the end of the last one. Right? And if it's on the ship...oh, no, then it's going to get one of them...which one? This put me in agonies of suspense to know their fate. So we called up Benjamin and Amanda, and Todd and Marcela, and invited them up for dinner Sunday to watch the final Alien movie. It's great to have such good friends who can turn on a dime. Plus B&A have the series, so we didn't have to rent it.