I walked out of the station Friday evening after wrestling with HTML tables for a couple of hours. I had a headache and I'm pretty sure my eyeballs were bleeding.

Neal had left a dozen roses in my car.

It was incredibly sweet, but I think it's funny that whenever someone surprises me with a gift, my first reaction is almost always anger and confusion. I see something weird in my car and I think, "Oh, for fuck's sake. What the hell is that and why is it in my car? I'm tired and pissy, yeah, THIS is just what I need." And then I get closer and I see flowers and I know where they came from and I'm happy. It's like the ultimate mood swing.

Mr. Wizard's Gardening Corner: Neal learned from the florist that if you mix the flower food with Sprite and stick the roses in there, they'll bloom nicely. Did they ever! Soft pink explosions in our living room. So pretty.

There was a shooting/face-off here Friday night/Saturday morning. I heard about it as I was leaving the station, and on the way to dinner, Neal and I saw cop cars and armoured trucks and all kinds of exciting things. He kept asking, "Do you want me to follow them? Do you want to use the phone to call the Sheriff's Office? Are you sure?"

I had my feet kicked up on the dash and just said, "Nope." I was hungry and it was the weekend. I couldn't have run anything till this morning, anyway.

I went swimming Saturday morning. Neal and I dicked around all day Saturday.

Dear Walls,

Please paint yourself, 'cause at this rate, we sure aren't going to get it done, and I'm sick of moving trays and rollers around and walking on plastic. Thanks.

You're the best,

Jamie and Neal

We watched movies Saturday night. And Sunday. And Sunday night. We're ridiculous.

Sunday evening we DID clean up, and we moved the chipped and dirty molding from the front porch to the backyard, so I'm feeling a little more neighborly.

Painting tonight. I swear.

(You: "Suuuuure..."

Me: "Shut up.")