Rut

It’s that weird time of year. Daylight savings day came and went, and it’s lighter later now. But the temperature hasn’t warmed up much yet. The boat’s still in the shed getting her facelift, a boob job and a tummy tuck. The water at our favorite dive sites has just thawed, and is still too cold to dive in. On top of all that, I have a cold that is the gift that keeps on giving. It will not go away, no matter how much I try to chase it off.

As a result, we’re still home bound as we were all winter long. We’re watching way too much TV, sitting around way too much—to the point where we joke that our couches are made of Velcro.

The problem with watching way too much TV right now is that there is nothing we want to watch. As a result, we get overloaded on the same shows on the DVR, and don’t get much variety. One of the shows were currently overloaded on is House.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s official. I am House-d out. It’s the same damn thing over and over again. First there’s the traumatic beginning, where the patient collapses dramatically. Then they’re taken to the hospital, where Dr. House is rude to them, between popping pills. Then the patient is killed a bunch of times because the doctors keep guessing the wrong treatment. Moments later the surgeon is inexplicably drilling into the skull of the patient with a Black and Decker hand drill. Then the patient ends up being diagnosed with something impossibly benign, like a paper cut. It’s like that movie Groundhog Day, but it takes place in the hospital.

Someone, anyone, please get me off this damn couch.