Where do I sign up to get George Michael to come over and do a slinky-diva concert in my living room? I gotta know. I was just looking at the cover to Older and marveling at the Armani goodness. Doesn't matter if he's not interested in women; I can handle that; after all, I'm not exactly the kind of person that people drool over. I'm listening to this slithery bit of sonic goodness he recorded for Deon Estus (talk about where-are-they-now material!) and just drooling in general.

Hey, you come here for a prurient look into my twisted little mind—don't bitch if you get TMI.

Right now I'm killing time until Jeff wakes up from his lunch coma on the living room couch. Whenever we get around to it today, we're headed to Lowe's (otherwise known as the Blue Orange Depot) to pick out some ceiling fans. The Geekhaus came with ceiling fans in the dining room (now reading room), the living room, and the master bedroom. There were no fans in the two spare bedrooms (now the guest bedroom and the computer room)—and both rooms need them. Jeff and I both think this house could've been better insulated. We've noticed that our heating and cooling bills are a bit higher than we'd like.

As a result, we're trying smaller things first—putting in ceiling fans in all the right rooms. We're going to wire the house for cat5 soon, and after that, we're going to do some attic work. We're going to put a couple of circulating vents up there, and then lay down some more insulation. These are all different ways of tap-dancing around what we think the real problem is—the previous owners skimped on the insulation they put in the walls. We've been living here nearly nine months and I continually keep finding things in this house that testify to the previous owners' overall unwillingness to spend money on anything that wasn't just blatantly obvious. I could rant for days about that one, so I'll spare you.

Suffice it to say that I'm hoping I can get most of the interior work done on this house before next spring, because next spring, it's time to re-landscape this place. Trees, crape myrtles, perennials, all that jazz. Sigh—I read over this and marvel at the differences between a 20-year-old college student and a 23-year-old homeowner. No wonder my friends don't know what to make of me anymore.

Anyway, Jeff's up. Time to wander off and spend some of our paychecks.